HEPSEY  BURKE 

F.  N.  WESTCOTT 


L/*" 


HEPSEY  BURKE 


"YOU   HAVEN'T  SEEN  ANYTHING  THAT  LOOKED  LIKE  A  PARSON,  HAVE 
YOU?     YOU  CAN  GENERALLY  SPOT  *EM   EVERY   TIME." 


HEPSEY  BURKE 


BY 

FRANK  N.  WESTCOTT 


ILLUSTRATED    BY 
FREDERICK  R.   GRUGER 


New  York 
THE  H.  K.  FLY  COMPANY 

Publishers 


Copyright,    1915,    by 
THE    H.    K.    FLY    COMPANY. 


Copyright,    1915,    by 
THE    RED    BOOK    CORPORATION. 


Copyright,   1914,  by 
THE    RED    BOOK    CORPORATION. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

I     HEPSEY  BURKE 1 1 

II     GOSSIP   25 

III  THE  SENIOR  WARDEN 36 

IV  MILKING   52 

V    THE  MINIATURE   59 

VI     THE  MISSIONARY  TEA 71 

VII     HEPSEY  GOES  A-FisniNG 85 

VIII     AN  ICEBOX  FOR  CHERUBIM 96 

IX  THE  RECTORY 1 1 1 

X  THE  BRIDE'S  ARRIVAL 122 

XI     VIRGINIA'S  HIGH  HORSE 130 

XII  HOUSE    CLEANING   AND    BACHELOR 
HOOD   137 

XIII  THE  CIRCUS  147 

XIV  ON  THE  SIDE  PORCH 160 

XV  NICKEY'S  SOCIAL  AMBITIONS 170 

XVI  PRACTICAL  TEMPERANCE  REFORM...  1 86 

XVII    NOTICE  TO  QUIT 200 


2075336 


CONTENTS 

XVIII    THE  NEW  RECTORY 212 

XIX  COULEUR  DE  ROSE 224 

XX  MUSCULAR  CHRISTIANITY 238 

XXI    UNINVITED  GUESTS 253 

XXII     HEPSEY'S  DIPLOMACY  271 

XXIII  HEPSEY  CALLS  A  MEETING 283 

XXIV  OMNIUM  GATHERUM 308 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGE 

"You  haven't  seen  anything  that  looked  like  a 
parson,  have  you?  You  can  generally 
spot  'em  every  time" Frontispiece 

"I'm  blessed  if  you  'aint  sewin'  white  buttons 
on  with  black  thread.  Is  anybody  dead  in 
the  family,  or  'aint  you  feelin'  well  this 
mornin'  ?"  62 

"Nicholas  Burke,  what  in  the  name  of  con 
science  does  all  this  idiotic  performance 
mean,  I'd  like  to  know?" ' 8 1 

"Oh  well,  I  always  believe  that  two  young  mar 
ried  people  should  start  out  by  them 
selves;  and  then  if  they  get  into  a  family 
row  it  wont  scandalize  the  parish" 127 

"I  'aint  a  chicken  no  more,  Mrs.  Betty,  and 
I've  'most  forgot  how  to  do  a  bit  of 
courtin'  "  141 

"I  consider  it  a  shame  and  a  disgrace  to  the 
parish  to  have  our  rector  in  filthy  clothes, 
drawing  stone  with  a  lot  of  ruffians" ....  249 

"I've  got  a  hunch,  Sylvester  Bascom,  that  it'll 
be  you  that'll  have  the  last  word,  after 
all"  280 

"Hepsey  Burke,  for  all  your  molasses  and  the 
little  bit  of  vinegar  you  say  you  keep  by 
you,  'there  are  no  flies  on  you,'  as  Nickey 
would  put  it" 3°9 


THE  noisy,  loose-jointed  train  pulled  out  of  the 
station,  leaving  behind  it  a  solitary  young 
man,  enveloped  in  smoke  and  cinders.  In  the 
middle  of  the  platform  stood  a  little  building  with  a 
curb  roof,  pointed  at  both  ends  like  a  Noah's  Ark; 
and  the  visitor  felt  that  if  he  could  only  manage  to 
lift  up  one  side  of  the  roof  he  would  find  the  animals 
"two  by  two,"  together  with  the  cylindrical  Noah 
and  the  rest  of  his  family.  There  was  no  one  in 
sight  but  the  station-master,  who  called  out  from  the 
ticket  office : 


12  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"Did  you  want  to  go  to  the  village?  The  'bus 
wont  be  down  till  the  next  train :  but  maybe  you  can 
ride  up  on  the  ice  wagon." 

"Thanks,"  the  stranger  replied.  "I  think  I'll  wait 
for  the  'bus,  if  it's  not  too  long." 

"Twenty  minutes  or  so,  if  Sam  don't  have  to  collect 
the  passengers  goin'  West,  and  wait  for  a  lot  o' 
women  that  forget  their  handbags  and  have  to  get 
out  and  go  back  after  'em." 

The  new  arrival  was  good  to  look  at — a  handsome, 
well-built  fellow  of  about  twenty-five,  dressed  in  a 
gray  suit  which  was  non-committal  as  to  his  profes 
sion,  with  a  clean-shaven  face  which  bore  the  unmis 
takable  stamp  of  good  breeding  and  unlimited  good 
nature.  He  tilted  his  suit-case  on  end  and  sat  down 
on  it;  then  he  filled  his  briar  pipe,  crossed  his  legs, 
and  looked  about  to  take  stock  of  the  situation.  He 
gazed  about  curiously;  but  there  was  nothing  of  any 
special  interest  in  sight,  except,  painfully  conspicu 
ous  on  the  face  of  a  grass  terrace,  the  name  of  the 
village  picked  out  in  large  letters  composed  of  oyster- 
shells  and  the  bottoms  of  protruding  beer  bottles 
stuck  in  the  ground.  The  stranger  found  himself 
wondering  where  a  sufficient  number  of  bottles  could 
be  found  to  complete  such  an  elaborate  pattern.  The 
only  other  marked  feature  of  the  landscape  in  the 


HEPSEY  BURKE  13 

way  of  artistic  decoration  was  the  corrugated  base  of 
an  old  stove,  painted  white,  which  served  as  a  flower 
vase.  From  this  grew  a  huge  bunch  of  scarlet  geran 
iums,  staring  defiantly,  and  seeming  fairly  to  sizzle  in 
the  hot,  vibrant  atmosphere,  which  was  as  still  as  the 
calm  of  a  moon-lit  night. 

As  the  man  on  the  suit-case  gazed  about  him  at  the 
general  air  of  dilapidation  and  neglect  characteristic 
of  a  country  town  on  the  down  grade,  and  recalled 
the  congenial  life  of  the  city  which  he  had  left,  with 
all  its  busy  competition,  with  all  its  absorbing  activi 
ties,  the  companionship  of  the  men  he  loved,  and  the 
restful,  inspiring  intimacy  with  a  certain  young 
woman,  he  felt,  for  the  moment,  a  pang  of  home 
sickness.  If  the  station  were  a  sample  of  the  village 
itself,  then  life  in  such  a  place  must  be  deadening  to 
every  finer  sensibility  and  ambition;  it  must  throw  a 
man  back  on  himself  and  make  him  morbid. 

The  momentary  depression  was  relieved  by  the 
station-master,  who  suddenly  appeared  at  the  door 
of  the  Ark  and  called  out: 

"Here  comes  Hepsey  Burke.  Maybe  she'll  take 
you  up ;  that'll  be  a  dum  sight  more  comfortable  than 
Lipkin's  'bus." 

There  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  a  cloud  of  dust, 
advancing  with  the  rapidity  of  a  whirlwind  along  the 


14  HEPSEY  BURKE 

highway,  from  which  there  gradually  emerged  a  team 
and  a  "democrat,"  containing  a  woman,  a  boy  about 
fourteen,  and  a  middle-aged  man. 

As  the  turn-out  drew  up,  the  man  took  the  reins 
from  Mrs.  Burke,  who  jumped  out  of  the  wagon 
with  remarkable  agility  for  one  of  her  size  and  years, 
and,  nodding  to  the  station-master,  came  on  to  the 
platform. 

Hepsey  Burke  was  rather  stout;  and  the  lines  from 
her  nose  to  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  and  the  wisps 
of  gray  hair  which  had  blown  about  her  face,  indi 
cated  that  she  had  passed  the  meridian  of  life.  At 
first  glance  there  was  nothing  striking  about  her  ap 
pearance  ;  but  there  was  a  subtle  expression  about  the 
mouth,  a  twinkle  about  the  large  gray  eyes  behind 
the  glasses  she  wore,  that  indicated  a  sense  of  humor 
which  had  probably  been  a  God-send  to  her.  She 
was  strong  and  well,  and  carried  with  her  an  air  of 
indomitable  conviction  that  things  worked  themselves 
out  all  right  in  the  long  run. 

The  boy  was  obviously  her  son,  and  in  spite  of  his 
overalls  and  frayed  straw  hat,  he  was  a  handsome 
little  chap.  He  looked  at  you  shyly  from  under  a 
crop  of  curly  hair,  with  half  closed  eyes,  giving  you 
the  impression  that  you  were  being  "sized  up"  by  a 
very  discriminating  individual;  and  when  he  smiled, 


HEPSEY  BURKE  15 

as  he  did  frequently,  he  revealed  a  set  of  very  white 
and  perfect  teeth.  When  he  was  silent,  there  was  a 
little  lifting  of  the  inner  brow  which  gave  him  a 
thoughtful  look  quite  beyond  his  years ;  and  you  were 
sadly  mistaken  if  you  imagined  that  you  could  form 
a  correct  impression  of  Nicholas  Burke  at  the  first 
interview. 

The  man  wore  a  sandy  beard,  but  no  mustache,  and 
had  a  downcast,  meekly  submissive  air,  probably  the 
depressing  effect  of  many  years  of  severe  domestic 
discipline. 

Mrs.  Burke  was  evidently  surprised  to  find  no  one 
there  but  the  man  on  the  suit-case ;  but  as  he  rose  and 
lifted  his  hat,  she  hesitated  a  moment,  exclaiming: 

"I  beg  pardon,  but  I  was  lookin'  for  a  parson  who 
was  to  arrive  on  this  train.  You  haven't  seen  any 
thing  that  looked  like  a  parson,  have  you?  You  can 
generally  spot  'em  every  time." 

The  young  man  smiled. 

"Well,  no;  I  seem  to  be  the  only  passenger  who 
got  off  the  train;  and  though  I'm  a  clergyman,  you 
don't  seem  to  find  it  easy  to  'spot'  me." 

Mrs.  Burke,  with  a  characteristic  gesture,  pulled 
her  glasses  forward  with  a  jerk  and  settled  them  firm 
ly  back  again  on  the  bridge  of  her  nose.  She  sur 
veyed  the  speaker  critically  as  she  questioned: 


1 6  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"But  you  don't  seem  to  show  the  usual  symptoms 
— collar  buttoned  behind,  and  all  that." 

"I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you,  Madam,  but  I  never 
travel  in  clerical  uniform.  Can't  afford  it." 

"Well,  you've  got  more  sense  than  most  parsons, 
if  I  may  say  so.  Maybe  you're  the  one  I'm  lookin' 
for:  Mr.  Donald  Maxwell." 

"That  is  my  name,  and  I  am  sure  you  must  be  Mrs. 
Burke." 

"Sure  thing!" — shaking  his  outstretched  hand 
heartily.  "Now  you  come  right  along  with  me,  Mr. 
Maxwell,  and  get  into  the  democrat  and  make  your 
self  comfortable."  They  walked  round  to  the  front 
of  the  station.  "This,  Mr.  Maxwell,  is  Jonathan 
Jackson,  the  Junior  Warden;  and  this  is  my  son 
Nicholas,  generally  known  as  Nickey,  except  when  I 
am  about  to  spank  him.  Say,  Jonathan,  you  just  h'ist 
that  trunk  into  the  back  of  the  wagon,  and  Nickey, 
you  take  the  parson's  suit-case." 

The  Junior  Warden  grinned  good-naturedly  as  he 
shook  hands  with  the  new  arrival.  But  Hepsey  con 
tinued  briskly:  "Now,  Jonathan,  you  get  into  the  back 
seat  with  Nickey,  and  Mr.  Maxwell,  you  sit  with  me 
on  the  front  seat  so  that  I  can  talk  to  you.  Jonathan 
means  well,  but  his  talk  's  limited  to  crops  and  symp 
toms,  even  if  he  is  an  old  friend,  my  next  door  neigh 
bor,  and  the  Junior  Warden." 


HEPSEY  BURKE  17 

Jonathan  obeyed  orders;  and,  as  he  got  into  the 
wagon,  winked  at  Maxwell  and  remarked: 

"You  see  we  have  to  take  a  back  seat  when  Hepsey 
drives;  and  we  have  to  hold  on  with  both  hands. 
She's  a  pacer." 

"Don't  you  let  him  frighten  you,  Mr.  Maxwell," 
Hepsey  replied.  "Jonathan  would  probably  hold  on 
with  both  hands  if  he  lay  flat  on  his  back  in  a  ten- 
acre  lot.  He's  just  that  fearless  and  enterprisin'." 

Then,  starting  the  horses  with  a  cluck,  she  turned 
to  Maxwell  and  continued: 

"I  guess  I  didn't  tell  you  I  was  glad  to  see  you; 
but  I  am.  I  got  your  note  tellin'  me  when  you  were 
comin',  but  I  didn't  get  down  to  the  station  in  time, 
as  the  men  are  killin'  hogs  to-day,  and  until  I  get  the 
in'ards  off  my  hands,  I  haven't  time  for  anything." 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  put  you  to  the  trouble  of  com 
ing  at  all.  I'm  sure  it's  very  good  of  you." 

"No  trouble;  not  the  least.  I  generally  look  after 
the  visitin'  parsons,  and  I'm  quite  used  to  it.  You 
can  get  used  to  'most  anything." 

Maxwell  laughed  as  he  responded: 

"You  speak  as  if  it  weren't  always  a  pleasure,  Mrs. 
Burke." 

"Well,  I  must  admit  that  there  are  parsons  and  par 
sons.  They  are  pretty  much  of  a  lottery,  and  it  is 


1 8  HEPSEY  BURKE 

generally  my  luck  to  draw  blanks.  But  don't  you 
worry  about  that;  you  don't  look  a  bit  like  a  parson." 

"I  think  that's  a  rather  doubtful  compliment." 

"Oh,  well,  you  know  what  I  mean.  There  are 
three  kinds  of  people  in  the  world;  men,  women,  and 
parsons;  and  I  like  a  parson  who  is  a  man  first,  and 
a  parson  afterwards;  not  one  who  is  a  parson  first, 
and  a  man  two  weeks  Tuesday  come  Michaelmas." 

Donald  laughed :  he  felt  sure  he  was  going  to  make 
friends  with  this  shrewd  yet  open-hearted  member  of 
his  flock.  The  pace  slackened  as  the  road  began  a 
steep  ascent.  Mrs.  Burke  let  the  horses  walk  up  the 
hill,  the  slackened  reins  held  in  one  hand;  in  the  other 
lolled  the  whip,  which  now  and  then  she  raised,  tight 
ening  her  grasp  upon  it  as  if  for  use,  on  second 
thoughts  dropping  it  to  idleness  again  and  clucking 
to  the  horses  instead.  It  was  typical  of  her  charac 
ter — the  means  of  chastisement  held  handy,  but  in 
reserve,  and  usually  displaced  by  other  methods  of 
suasion. 

As  they  turned  down  over  the  brow  of  the  hill  they 
drove  rapidly,  and  as  the  splendid  landscape  of  roll 
ing  country,  tilled  fields  and  pasture,  stretching  on  to 
distant  wooded  mountains,  spread  out  before  him, 
Maxwell  exclaimed  enthusiastically,  drawing  a  deep 
breath  of  the  exhilarating:  air: 


HEPSEY  BURKE  19 

"How  beautiful  it  is  up  here!  You  must  have  a 
delightful  climate." 

"Well,"  she  replied,  "I  don't  know  as  we  have 
much  climate  to  speak  of.  We  have  just  a  job  lot  of 
weather,  and  we  take  it  regular — once  after  each 
meal,  once  before  goin'  to  bed,  and  repeat  if  neces 
sary  before  mornin'.  I  won't  say  but  it's  pretty  good 
medicine,  at  that.  There'd  be  no  show  for  the  doc 
tor,  if  it  wasn't  fashionable  to  invite  him  in  at  the 
beginnin'  and  the  end  of  things." 

Jonathan,  who  up  to  this  time  had  been  silent,  felt 
it  incumbent  to  break  into  the  conversation  a  bit,  and 
interposed: 

"I  suppose  you've  never  been  up  in  these  parts  be 
fore?" 

"No,"  Maxwell  responded;  "but  I've  always  in 
tended  to  come  up  during  the  season  for  a  little 
hunting  some  time.  Was  there  much  sport  last 
year?" 

"Well,  I  can't  say  as  there  was,  and  I  can't  say  as 
there  wasn't.  The  most  I  recollect  was  that  two  city 
fellers  shot  a  guide  and  another  feller.  But  then  it 
was  a  poor  season  last  fall,  anyway." 

Maxwell  gave  the  Junior  Warden  a  quick  look, 
but  there  was  not  a  trace  of  a  smile  on  his  face,  and 
Hepsey  chuckled.  Keeping  her  eyes  on  the  horses 


20  HEPSEY  BURKE 

as  they  trotted  along  at  a  smart  pace  over  a  road  none 
too  smooth  for  comfortable  riding,  she  remarked 
casually : 

"I  suppose  the  Bishop  told  you  what  we  wanted 
in  the  shape  of  a  parson,  didn't  he?" 

"Well,  he  hinted  a  few  things." 

"Yes;  we're  awful  modest,  like  most  country  par 
ishes  that  don't  pay  their  rector  more  than  enough 
to  get  his  collars  laundered.  We  want  a  man  who 
can  preach  like  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and 
call  on  everybody  twice  a  week,  and  know  just  when 
anyone  is  sick  without  bein'  told  a  word  about  it. 
He's  got  to  be  an  awful  good  mixer,  to  draw  the 
young  people  like  a  porous  plaster,  and  fill  the  pews. 
He  must  have  lots  of  sociables,  and  fairs,  and  things 
to  take  the  place  of  religion;  and  he  must  dress  well, 
and  live  like  a  gentleman  on  the  salary  of  a  book- 
agent.  But  if  he  brings  city  ways  along  with  him  and 
makes  us  feel  like  hayseeds,  he  won't  be  popu 
lar." 

"That's  a  rather  large  contract!"  Maxwell  replied 
with  a  smile. 

"Yes,  but  think  what  we're  goin'  to  pay  you:  six 
hundred  dollars  a  year,  and  you'll  have  to  raise  most 
of  it  yourself,  just  for  the  fun  of  it." 

At  this  point  the  Junior  Warden  interrupted: 


HEPSEY  BURKE  21 

"Now,  Hepsey,  what's  the  use  of  upsettin'  the 
young  man  at  the  start.  He's " 

"Never  mind,  Jonathan.  I'm  tellin'  the  truth,  any 
way.  You  see,"  she  continued,  "most  people  think 
piety's  at  a  low  ebb  unless  we're  gettin'  up  some  kind 
of  a  holy  show  all  the  time,  to  bring  people  together 
that  wouldn't  meet  anywhere  else  if  they  saw  each 
other  first.  Then  when  they've  bought  a  chance  on  a 
pieced  bed-quilt,  or  paid  for  chicken-pie  at  a  church 
supper,  they  go  home  feelin'  real  religious,  believin' 
that  if  there's  any  obligation  between  them  and 
heaven,  it  isn't  on  their  side,  anyway.  Do  you  think 
you're  goin'  to  fill  the  bill,  Mr.  Maxwell?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Maxwell.  "Of  course 
I  might  find  myself  possessed  of  a  talent  for  invent 
ing  new  and  original  entertainments  each  week;  but 
I'm  afraid  that  you're  a  bit  pessimistic,  Mrs.  Burke, 
aren't  you?" 

"No,  I'm  not.  There's  a  mighty  fine  side  to  life 
in  a  country  parish  sometimes,  where  the  right  sort 
of  a  man  is  in  charge.  The  people  take  him  as  one 
of  their  family,  you  know,  and  borrow  eggs  of  his 
wife  as  easy  as  of  their  next  door  neighbor.  But  the 
young  reverends  expect  too  much  of  a  country  parish, 
and  break  their  hearts  sometimes  because  they  can't 
make  us  tough  old  critters  all  over  while  you  wait. 


22  HEPSEY  BURKE 

Poor  things !  I'm  sorry  for  the  average  country  par 
son,  and  a  lot  sorrier  for  his  wife." 

"Well,  don't  you  worry  about  me;  I'm  well  and 
;  strong,  and  equal  to  anything,  I  imagine.     I  don't 

/believe  in  taking  life  too  seriously;  it's  bad  for  the 

i 

nerves  and  digestion.  It  will  be  an  entirely  new  ex 
perience  for  me,  and  I'm  sure  I  shall  find  the  people 
interesting." 

"Yes,  but  what  if  they  aren't  your  kind?  I  sup 
pose  you  might  find  hippopotamuses  interestin'  for  a 
while,  but  that's  no  reason  you  should  like  to  live  with 
'em.  Anyway,  don't  mind  what  people  say.  They 
aint  got  nothin'  to  think  about,  so  they  make  up  by 
talkin'  about  it,  especially  when  it  happens  to  be  a 
new  parson.  We've  been  havin'  odds  and  ends  of 
parsons  from  the  remnant  counter  now  for  six  months 
or  more;  and  that's  enough  to  kill  any  parish.  I 
believe  that  if  the  angel  Gabriel  should  preach  for  us, 
half  the  congregation  would  object  to  the  cut  of  his 
wings,  and  the  other  half  to  the  fit  of  his  halo.  We 
call  for  all  the  virtues  of  heaven,  and  expect  to  get 
'em  for  seven-forty-nine." 

"Well — I  shall  have  to  look  to  you  and  the  War 
dens  to  help  me  out,"  he  said.  "You  must  help  me 
run  things,  until  I  know  the  ropes." 

"Oh !    Bascom  will  run  things  for  you,  if  you  let 


HEPSEY  BURKE  23 

him  do  the  runnin',"  she  replied,  cracking  her  whip. 
"You'll  need  to  get  popular  first  with  him  and  his — 
then  you'll  have  it  easy." 

Maxwell  pondered  these  local  words  of  wisdom, 
and  recalled  the  Bishop's  warning  that  Bascom,  the 
Senior  Warden,  had  not  made  life  easy  for  his  prede 
cessors,  and  his  superior's  exhortation  to  firmness  and 
tact,  to  the  end  that  he,  Maxwell,  should  hold  his 
own,  while  taking  his  Senior  Warden  along  with  him. 
The  Senior  Warden  was  evidently  a  power  in  the  land. 

They  had  driven  about  a  mile  and  a  half  when  the 
wagon  turned  off  the  road,  and  drew  up  by  a  house 
standing  some  distance  back  from  it;  getting  down, 
Mrs.  Burke  exclaimed: 

"Welcome  to  Thunder  Cliff,  Mr.  Maxwell.  Thun 
der  Cliff's  the  name  of  the  place,  you  know.  All  the 
summer  visitors  in  Durford  have  names  for  their 
houses ;  so  I  thought  I'd  call  my  place  Thunder  Cliff, 
just  to  be  in  the  style." 

Jonathan  Jackson,  who  had  kept  a  discreet  silence 
during  Hepsey's  pointers  concerning  his  colleague, 
the  Senior  Warden,  interjected: 

"There  aint  no  cliff,  Hepsey,  and  you  know  it.  I 
always  tell  her,  Mr.  Maxwell,  'taint  appropriate  a 
bit." 

"Jonathan,  you  aint  no  Englishman,  and  there's  no 


24  HEPSEY  BURKE 

use  pretendin'  that  you  are.  Some  day  when  I  have 
a  couple  of  hours  to  myself,  I'll  explain  the  whole 
matter  to  you.  There  isn't  any  cliff,  and  the  house 
wants  paintin'  and  looks  like  thunder.  Isn't  that  rea 
son  enough  to  go  on  with?  Now,  Mr.  Maxwell,  you 
come  in  and  make  yourself  perfectly  at  home." 


THAT  afternoon  Maxwell  occupied  himself  in 
unpacking  his  trunks  and  arranging  his  room. 
As  the  finishing  touch,  he  drew  out  of  a  leath 
er  case  an  exquisite    miniature  of    a  beautiful    girl, 
which  he  placed  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  at  which  he 
gazed  for  a  long  time  with  a  wistful  light  in  his  fine 
gray  eyes.  .Then  he  threw  himself  on  the  lounge,  and 
pulling  a  letter  from  his  inner  pocket,  read: 

"Don't  worry  about  expenses,  dear.    Six  hundred 

25 


26  HEPSEY  BURKE 

is  quite  enough  for  two;  we  shall  be  passing  rich! 
You  must  remember  that,  although  I  am  a  'college 
girl,'  I  am  not  a  helpless,  extravagant  creature,  and  I 
know  how  to  economize.  I  am  sure  we  shall  be  able 
to  make  both  ends  meet.  With  a  small  house,  rent 
free,  a  bit  of  ground  for  a  vegetable  garden,  and 
plenty  of  fresh  air,  we  can  accomplish  almost  any 
thing,  and  be  supremely  happy  together.  And  then, 
when  you  win  advancement,  as  of  course  you  will  very 
soon,  we  shall  appreciate  the  comforts  all  the  more 
from  the  fact  that  we  were  obliged  to  live  the  simple 
life  for  a  while. 

"You  can't  possibly  imagine  how  I  miss  you,  sweet 
heart.  Do  write  as  soon  as  possible  and  tell  me  all 
about  Durford.  If  I  could  just  have  one  glimpse  of 
you  in  your  new  quarters — but  that  would  only  be  a 
wretched  aggravation;  so  I  keep  saying  to  myself 
'Some  day,  some  day,'  and  try  to  be  patient.  God 
bless  you  and  good-by." 

Donald  folded  the  letter  carefully,  kissed  it,  and 
tucked  it  away  in  his  pocket.  Clasping  his  hands  be 
hind  his  head,  he  gazed  at  the  ceiling. 

"I  wonder  if  I'd  better  tell  Mrs.  Burke  about  Betty. 
I  don't  care  to  pass  myself  off  as  a  free  man  in  a 
parish  like  this.  And  yet,  after  all,  it's  none  of  their 


GOSSIP  27 

business  at  present.  I  think  I'd  better  wait  and  find 
out  if  there's  any  possibility  of  making  her  happy 
here." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door. 

"Talk  of  angels,"  murmured  Maxwell,  and  hur 
riedly  returned  the  miniature  to  its  case  before  open 
ing  the  door  to  Mrs.  Burke,  who  came  to  offer  as 
sistance. 

"Don't  bother  to  fuss  for  me,"  she  said  as  he  has 
tened  to  remove  some  books  and  clothes  from  a  chair, 
so  that  she  might  sit  down.  "I  only  came  up  for  a 
moment  to  see  if  there  was  anything  I  could  do. 
Think  you  can  make  yourself  pretty  comfortable 
here?  I  call  this  room  'the  prophet's  chamber,' 
you  know,  because  it's  where  I  always  put  the  visitin' 
parsons." 

"They're  lucky,"  he  replied.  "This  room  is  just 
delightful  with  that  jolly  old  fireplace,  its  big  dormer 
windows,  and  the  view  over  the  river  and  the  hills 
beyond:  I  shall  be  very  comfortable." 

"Well,  I  hope  so.  You  know  I  don't  think  any 
livin'-room  is  complete  without  a  fireplace.  Next  to 
an  old  friend,  a  bright  wood  fire's  the  best  thing  I 
know  to  keep  one  from  getting  lonesome." 

"Yes — that  and  a  good  cigar." 

"Well,  I  haven't  smoked  in  some  time  now,"  Mrs. 


28  HEPSEY  BURKE 

Burke  replied,  smiling,  "so  I  can't  say.  What  a  lot 
of  things  you've  got!" 

"Yes,  more  than  I  thought  I  had." 

"I  do  love  to  see  a  man  tryin'  to  put  things  to 
rights.  He  never  knows  where  anything  belongs. 
What  an  awful  lot  of  books  you've  got !  I  suppose 
you're  just  chuck  full  of  learnin',  clean  up  to  your 
back  teeth;  but  we  wont  any  of  us  know  the  differ 
ence.  Most  city  parsons  preach  about  things  that  are 
ten  miles  over  the  heads  of  us  country  people.  You 
can't  imagine  how  little  thinkin'  most  of  us  do  up 
here.  We're  more  troubled  with  potato  bugs  than  we 
are  with  doubts;  and  you'll  have  to  learn  a  lot  about 
us  before  you  really  get  down  to  business,  I  guess." 

"Yes,  I  expect  to  learn  more  from  you  than  you 
will  from  me.  That's  one  of  the  reasons  why  I 
wanted  to  come  so  far  out  in  the  country." 

"Hm !     I  hope  you  wont  be  disappointed." 

Mrs.  Burke  adjusted  her  glasses  and  gazed  inter 
estedly  about  the  room  at  some  pictures  and  decora 
tions  which  Maxwell  had  placed  in  position,  and  in 
quired: 

"Who  is  the  plaster  lady  and  gentleman  standin' 
on  the  mantelpiece?" 

"The  Venus  de  Milo,  and  the  Hermes  of  Praxi 
teles." 


GOSSIP  29 

"Well,  you  know,  I  just  can't  help  preferrin'  ladies 
and  gentlemen  with  arms  and  legs,  myself.  I  suppose 
it's  real  cultivated  to  learn  to  like  parts  of  people 
done  in  marble.  Maybe  when  I  go  down  to  the  city 
next  fall  to  buy  my  trousseau,  I'll  buy  a  few  plasters 
myself,  to  make  the  house  look  more  cheerful- 
like." 

Maxwell  caught  at  the  word  "trousseau,"  and  as 
Mrs.  Burke  had  spoken  quite  seriously  he  asked: 

"Are  you  going  to  be  married,  Mrs.  Burke?" 

"No  such  thing!  But  when  a  handsome  young 
widow  like  me  lives  alone,  frisky  and  sixty-ish,  with 
six  lonesome,  awkward  widowers  in  the  same  school 
district,  you  can  never  tell  what  might  happen  any 
minute;  'In  time  of  peace  prepare  for  war,'  as  the 
paper  says." 

Maxwell  laughed  reassuringly. 

"I  don't  see  why  you  laugh,"  Mrs.  Burke  respond 
ed,  chuckling  to  herself.  "  'Taint  polite  to  look  sur 
prised  when  a  woman  says  she's  a-goin'  to  get  mar 
ried.  Every  woman  under  ninety-eight  has  expecta 
tions.  While  there's  life  there's  hope  that  some  man 
will  make  a  fool  of  himself.  But  unless  I  miss  my 
.guess,  you  don't  catch  me  surrenderin'  my  indepen 
dence.  As  long  as  I  have  enough  to  eat  and  am  well, 
I'm  contented." 


30  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"You  certainly  look  the  picture  of  health,  Mrs. 
Burke." 

"Oh,  yes !  as  well  as  could  be  expected,  when  I'm 
just  recoverin'  from  a  visit  from  Mary  Sam." 

"What  sort  of  a  visitor  is  that?"  asked  Maxwell, 
laughing. 

"Mary  Sam  is  my  sister-in-law.  She  spends  a 
month  with  me  every  year  on  her  own  invitation.  She 
is  what  you'd  call  a  hardy  annual.  She  is  the  most 
stingy  and  narrow-minded  woman  I  ever  saw.  The 
bark  on  the  trees  hangs  in  double  box-plaits  as  com 
pared  with  Mary  Sam.  But  I  got  the  best  of  her  last 
year.  While  I  was  cleanin'  the  attic  I  came  across 
the  red  pasteboard  sign  with  'Scarlet  Fever'  painted 
on  it,  that  the  Board  of  Health  put  on  the  house  when 
Nickey  had  the  fever  three  years  ago.  The  very  next 
day  I  was  watchin'  the  'bus  comin'  up  Main  Street, 
when  I  saw  Mary  Sam's  solferino  bonnet  bobbin'  up 
and  down  inside.  Before  she  got  to  the  house,  I 
sneaked  out  and  pinned  up  the  sign,  right  by  the  front 
door.  She  got  onto  the  piazza,  bag,  baggage,  and 
brown  paper  bundles,  before  she  caught  sight  of  it. 
Then  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  her  face :  I  wouldn't 
have  believed  so  much  could  be  done  with  so  few 
features." 

"She   didn't  linger  long?"   laughed   the   parson, 


GOSSIP  31 

who  continued  arranging  his  books  while  his  visitor 
chatted. 

"Linger?  Well,  not  exactly.  She  turned  tail  and 
run  lickety-spindle  back  for  the  'bus  as  if  she  had 
'caught  sight  of  a  subscription  paper  for  foreign  mis 
sions.  I  heard  Jim  Anderson,  who  drives  the  'bus, 
snicker  as  he  helped  her  in  again;  but  he  didn't  give 
me  away.  Jim  and  I  are  good  friends.  But  when 
she  got  home  she  wrote  to  Sally  Ramsdale  to  ask  how 
Nickey  was ;  and  Sally,  not  bein'  on  to  the  game,  wrote 
back  that  there  was  nothin'  the  matter  with  Nickey 
that  she  knew  of.  Then  Mary  Sam  wrote  me  the 
impudentest  letter  I  ever  got;  and  she  came  right 
back,  and  stayed  two  months  instead  of  one,  just  to 
be  mean.  But  that  sign's  done  good  service  since. 
I've  scared  off  agents  and  tramps  by  the  score.  I 
always  hang  it  in  the  parlor  window  when  I'm  away 
from  home." 

"But  suppose  your  house  caught  fire  while  you  were 
away?" 

"Well,  I've  thought  of  that;  but  there's  worse 
things  than  fire  if  your  insurance  is  all  right." 

Mrs.  Burke  relapsed  into  silence  for  a  while,  until 
Maxwell  opened  a  box  of  embroidered  stoles,  which 
he  spread  out  on  the  bed  for  her  inspection. 

"My !  but  aren't  those  beautiful !    I  never  saw  the 


32  HEPSEY  BURKE 

like  before.    Where  did  you  get  'em?" 

"They  were  made  by  the  'Sisters  of  St.  Paul'  in 
Boston." 

Hepsey  gazed  at  the  stoles  a  long  time  in  silence, 
handling  them  daintily;  then  she  remarked: 

"I  used  to  embroider  some  myself.  Would  you 
like  to  see  some  of  it?" 

"Certainly,  I  should  be  delighted  to  see  it,"  Don 
ald  responded;  and  Mrs.  Burke  went  in  search  of 
her  work. 

Presently  she  returned  and  showed  Maxwell  a  sam 
ple  of  her  skill — doubtless  intended  for  a  cushion- 
cover.  To  be  sure  it  was  a  bit  angular  and  impres 
sionistic.  Like  Browning's  poems  and  Turner's  pic 
tures,  it  left  interesting  room  for  speculation.  To 
begin  with,  there  was  a  dear  little  pink  dog  in  the 
foreground,  having  convulsions  on  purple  grass.  In 
the  middle-distance  was  a  lay-figure  in  orange,  pick 
ing  scarlet  apples  from  what  appeared  to  be  a  revolv 
ing  clothes-horse  blossoming  profusely  at  the  ends 
of  each  beam.  A  little  blue  brook  gurgled  merrily 
up  the  hill,  and  disappeared  down  the  other  side  only 
to  reappear  again  as  a  blue  streak  in  an  otherwise 
crushed-strawberry  sky.  A  pumpkin  sun  was  disap 
pearing  behind  emerald  hills,  shooting  up  equidistant 
yellow  rays,  like  the  spokes  of  a  cart-wheel.  Under- 


GOSSIP  33 

neath  this  striking  composition  was  embroidered  the 
dubious  sentiment  "There  is  no  place  like  home." 

Maxwell  examined  carefully  the  square  of  cross- 
stitch  wool  embroidery,  biting  his  lip;  while  Hepsey 
watched  him  narrowly,  chuckling  quietly  to  herself. 
Then  she  laughed  heartily,  and  asked: 

"Confess  now;  don't  you  think  it's  beautiful?" 

Donald  smiled  broadly  as  he  replied: 

"It's  really  quite  wonderful.  Did  you  do  it  your 
self?" 

"To  be  sure  I  did,  when  I  was  a  little  girl  and  we 
used  to  work  in  wool  from  samplers,  and  learn  to  do 
alphabets.  I'm  glad  you  appreciate  it.  If  you  would 
like  to  have  me  embroider  anything  for  the  church, 
don't  hesitate  to  ask  me."  She  busied  herself  exam 
ining  the  stoles  again,  and  asked: 

"How  much  did  these  things  cost,  if  you  don't 
mind  my  askin'  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  They  were  given  to  me  by  a  friend 
of  mine,  when  I  graduated  from  the  Seminary." 

"Hm!  a  friend  of  yours,  eh?  She  must  think  an 
awful  lot  of  you." 

Hepsey  gave  Donald  a  sharp  glance. 

"I  didn't  say  it  was  a  lady." 

"No,  but  your  eyes  and  cheeks  did.  Well,  it's  none 
of  my  business,  and  there's  no  reason  that  I  know  of 


34  HEPSEY  BURKE 

why  the  Devil  should  have  all  the  bright  colors,  and 
embroideries,  and  things.  Are  you  High  Church?" 

Maxwell  hesitated  a  moment  and  replied : 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'High  Church?'  " 

"The  last  rector  we  had  was  awful  high."  Hepsey 
smiled  with  reminiscent  amusement. 

"How  so?" 

"We  suspected  he  didn't  wear  no  pants  durin'  ser 
vice." 

"How  very  extraordinary!  Is  that  a  symptom  of 
ritualism?" 

"Well,  you  see  he  wore  a  cassock  under  his  sur 
plice,  and  none  of  our  parsons  had  ever  done  that 
before.  The  Senior  Warden  got  real  stirred  up  about 
it,  and  told  Mr.  Whittimore  that  our  rectors  always 
wore  pants  durin'  service.  Mr.  Whittimore  pulled 
up  his  cassock  and  showed  the  Warden  that  he  had 
his  pants  on.  The  Warden  told  him  it  was  an  awful 
relief  to  his  mind,  as  he  considered  goin'  without 
pants  durin'  service  the  enterin'  wedge  for  Popish 
tricks;  and  if  things  went  on  like  that,  nobody  knew 
where  we  would  land.  Then  some  of  the  women  got 
talkin',  and  said  that  the  rector  practiced  celibacy,  and 
that  some  one  should  warn  him  that  the  parish 
wouldn't  stand  for  any  more  innovations,  and  he'd 
better  look  out.  So  one  day,  Virginia  Bascom,  the 


GOSSIP  35 

Senior  Warden's  daughter,  told  him  what  was  being 
said  about  him.  The  parson  just  laughed  at  Ginty, 
and  said  that  celibacy  was  his  misfortune,  not  his 
fault;  and  that  he  hoped  to  overcome  it  in  time.  That 
puzzled  her  some,  and  she  came  to  me  and  asked 
what  celibacy  was.  When  I  told  her  it  was  staying 
unmarried,  like  St.  Paul — my,  but  wasn't  she  mad, 
though !  You  ought  to  have  seen  her  face.  She  was 
so  mortified  that  she  wouldn't  speak  to  me  for  a  week. 
Well,  I  guess  I've  gossiped  enough  for  now.  I  must 
go  and  make  my  biscuits  for  supper.  If  I  can  help 
you  any,  just  call  out. 


•I  J  •MHfiffiDBZBRHBBMMmBOHHCbiiiBBPilWRHBHnMBli  19 

{{TT'S  a  fine  morning,  Mr.  Maxwell,"  Mrs.  Burke 
remarked  at  breakfast  next  day,  "and  I'm  goin' 
to  drive  down  to  the  village  to  do  some  shop 
ping.     Don't  you  want  to  go  with  me  and  pay  your 
respects  to  the  Senior  Warden?    You'll  find  him  in 
his  office.     Then  I'll  meet  you  later,  and  bring  you 
home — dead  or  alive !" 

Maxwell  laughed.     "That  sounds  cheerful,  but  I 
should  be  glad  to  go." 

"I  guess  you  better,  and  have  it  over  with.     He'll 

36 


SENIOR   WARDEN  37 

expect  it.  He's  like  royalty:  he  never  calls  first;  and 
when  he's  at  home  he  always  has  a  flag  on  a  pole  in 
the  front  yard.  If  he's  out  of  town  for  the  day,  his 
man  lowers  the  flag.  I  generally  call  when  the  flag's 
down.  I  wish  everybody  had  a  flag;  it's  mighty  con 
venient." 

The  center  of  Durford's  social,  commercial  and 
ecclesiastical  life  was  the  village  green,  a  plot  of 
ground  on  which  the  boys  played  ball,  and  in  the  mid 
dle  of  which  was  the  liberty  pole  and  the  band-stand. 
On  one  side  of  the  green  was  a  long  block  of  stores, 
and  on  the  opposite  side  a  row  of  churches,  side  by 
side,  five  in  number.  There  was  the  Meeting  House, 
in  plain  gray;  "The  First  Church  of  Durford,"  with 
a  Greek  portico  in  front;  "The  Central  Church," 
with  a  box-like  tower  and  a  slender  steeple  with  a  gild 
ed  rooster  perched  on  top — an  edifice  which  looked 
like  a  cross  between  a  skating  rink  and  a  railroad 
station;  and  last  of  all,  the  Episcopal  Church  on  the 
corner — a  small,  elongated  structure,  which  might 
have  been  a  carpenter-shop  but  for  the  little  cross 
which  surmounted  the  front  gable,  and  the  pointed 
tops  of  the  narrow  windows,  which  were  supposed 
to  be  "gothic"  and  to  proclaim  the  structure  to  be  the 
House  of  God. 

Just  around  the  corner  was  a  little  tumble-down 


3 8  HEPSEY  BURKE 

house  known  as  "The  Rectory."  The  tall  grass  and 
the  lowered  shades  indicated  that  it  had  been  unoc 
cupied  for  some  time.  Mrs.  Burke  called  Maxwell's 
attention  to  it. 

"I  suppose  you'll  be  living  there  some  day — if  you 
stay  here  long  enough;  though  of  course  you  can't 
keep  house  there  alone.  The  place  needs  a  lot  of  over- 
haulin'.  Nickey  says  there's  six  feet  of  plaster  off 
the  parlor  ceilin',  and  the  cellar  gets  full  of  water 
when  it  rains;  but  I  guess  we  can  fix  it  up  when  the 
time  comes.  That's  your  cathedral,  on  the  corner. 
You  see,  we  have  five  churches,  when  we  really  need 
only  one;  and  so  we  have  to  scrap  for  each  other's 
converts,  to  keep  up  the  interest.  We  feed  'em  on 
sandwiches,  pickles  and  coffee  every  now  and  then,  to 
make  'em  come  to  church.  Yes,  preachin'  and  pickles, 
sandwiches  and  salvation,  seem  to  run  in  the  same 
class,  these  days." 

When  they  arrived  in  front  of  the  block,  Mrs. 
Burke  hitched  her  horse,  and  left  Maxwell  to  his  own 
devices.  He  proceeded  to  hunt  up  the  post  office; 
and  as  the  mail  was  not  yet  distributed,  he  had  to  wait 
some  time,  conscious  of  the  fact  that  he  was  the  cen 
ter  of  interest  to  the  crowd  assembled  in  the  room. 
Finally,  when  he  gained  access  to  the  delivery  win 
dow,  he  was  greeted  by  a  smile  from  the  postmistress, 


SENIOR   WARDEN  39 

a  woman  of  uncertain  age,  who  remarked  as  she 
handed  him  his  letters : 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Maxwell.  Glad  to  meet  you. 
I'm  a  Presbyterian  myself;  but  I  have  always  made  it 
a  point  to  be  nice  to  everybody.  You  seem  to  have 
quite  a  good  many  correspondents,  and  I  presume 
you'll  be  wantin'  a  lock  box.  It's  so  convenient.  You 
must  feel  lonesome  in  a  strange  place.  Drop  in  and 
see  mother  some  day.  She's  got  curvature  of  the 
spine,  but  no  religious  prejudices.  She'll  be  right  glad 
to  see  you,  I'm  sure,  even  though  she's  not  'Piscopal." 

Maxwell  thanked  her,  and  inquired  the  way  to  the 
Senior  Warden's  office,  to  which  she  directed  him. 

Three  doors  below  the  post  office  was  a  hallway 
and  a  flight  of  stairs  leading  up  to  Mr.  Bascom's 
sanctum.  As  he  ascended,  Maxwell  bethought  him 
of  the  Bishop's  hint  that  this  was  the  main  strong 
hold  for  the  exercise  of  his  strategy.  The  Senior 
Warden,  for  some  reason  or  other,  had  persistently 
quarreled  with  the  clergy,  or  crossed  them.  What  was 
the  secret  of  his  antagonism?  Would  he  be  predis 
posed  in  Maxwell's  favor,  or  prejudiced  against  him? 
He  would  soon  discover — and  he  decided  to  let 
Bascom  do  most  of  the  talking.  Reaching  the  first 
landing,  Donald  knocked  on  a  door  the  upper  panel 
of  which  was  filled  with  glass,  painted  white.  On 


4o  HEPSEY  BURKE 

the  glass  in  large  black  letters  was  the  name:  "SYL 
VESTER  BASCOM." 

The  Senior  Warden  sat  behind  a  table,  covered 
with  musty  books  and  a  litter  of  letters  and  papers. 
In  his  prime  he  had  been  a  small  man ;  and  now,  well 
past  middle  age,  he  looked  as  if  he  had  shrunk  until 
he  was  at  least  five  sizes  too  small  for  his  skin,  which 
was  sallow  and  loose.  There  was  a  suspicious  look 
in  his  deep-set  eyes,  which  made  his  hooked  nose  all 
the  more  aggressive.  He  was  bald,  except  for  a  few 
stray  locks  of  gray  hair  which  were  brushed  up  from 
his  ears  over  the  top  of  his  head,  and  evidently  fas 
tened  down  by  some  gluey  cosmetic.  He  frowned 
severely  as  Maxwell  entered,  but  extended  a  shriv 
eled,  bony  hand,  and  pointed  to  a  chair.  Then 
placing  the  tips  of  his  fingers  together  in  front  of 
his  chest,  he  gazed  at  Donald  as  if  he  were  the  pris 
oner  at  the  bar,  and  began  without  any  preliminary 
welcome : 

"So  you  are  the  young  man  who  is  to  take  charge 
of  the  church.  It  is  always  difficult  for  a  city-bred 
man  to  adjust  himself  to  the  needs  and  manners  of  a 
country  parish.  Very  difficult,  Mr.  Maxwell — very 
difficult." 

Maxwell  smiled  as  he  replied: 

"Yes,  but  that  is  a  fault  which  time  will  remedy." 


SENIOR   WARDEN  41 

"Doubtless.  Time  has  a  way  of  remedying  most 
things.  But  in  the  meantime — in  the  meantime,  lack 
of  tact,  self-assertiveness,  indiscretion,  on  the  part  of 
a  clergyman  may  do  much  harm — much  harm!" 

Mr.  Maxwell  colored  slightly  as  he  laughed  and 
replied: 

"I  should  imagine  that  you  have  had  rather  a  'mean 
time,'  from  the  way  you  speak.  Your  impressions  of 
the  clergy  seem  to  be  painful." 

"Well,"  the  lawyer  continued  sententiously,  "we 
have  had  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men,  as  the 
Prayer  Book  says ;  and  the  result  has  not  always  been 
satisfactory — not  always  satisfactory.  But  I  was  not 
consulted." 

To  this,  Maxwell,  who  was  somewhat  nettled,  re 
plied: 

"I  suppose  that  in  any  case  the  responsibility  for  the 
success  of  a  parish  must  be  somewhat  divided  between 
the  parson  and  the  people.  I  am  sure  I  may  count  on 
your  assistance." 

"Oh  yes;  oh  yes;  of  course.  I  shall  be  very  glad 
to  advise  you  in  any  way  I  can.  Prevention  is  better 
than  cure:  don't  hesitate  to  come  to  me  for  sugges 
tions.  You  will  doubtless  be  anxious  to  follow  in  the 
good  old  ways,  and  avoid  extremes.  I  am  a  firm  be 
liever  in  expediency.  Though  I  was  not  consulted  in 


42  HEPSEY  BURKE 

the  present  appointment,  I  may  say  that  what  we  need 
is  a  man  of  moderate  views  who  can  adjust  himself 
to  circumstances.  Tact,  that  is  the  great  thing  in  life. 
I  am  a  firm  believer  in  tact.  Our  resources  are  lim 
ited;  and  a  clergyman  should  be  a  self-denying  man 
of  God,  contented  with  plain  living  and  high  think 
ing.  No  man  can  succeed  in  a  country  parish  who 
seeks  the  loaves  and  fishes  of  the  worldling.  Dur- 
ford  is  not  a  metropolis;  we  do  not  emulate  city 
ways." 

"No,  I  should  imagine  not,"  Maxwell  answered. 

The  parson  gathered  that  the  Senior  Warden  felt 
slighted  that  he  had  not  been  asked  by  the  Bishop  to 
name  his  appointee;  and  that  if  he  had  bethought 
himself  to  sprinkle  a  little  hay-seed  on  his  clothing, 
his  reception  might  have  been  more  cordial. 

At  this  point  the  door  opened  and  a  woman,  hov 
ering  somewhere  between  twenty-five  and  forty, 
dressed  in  rather  youthful  and  pronounced  attire,  en 
tered,  and  seeing  Donald  exclaimed: 

"Oh,  papa,  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  busy  with 
a  client.  Do  excuse  me." 

Then,  observing  the  clerical  attire  of  the  "client," 
she  came  forward,  and  extending  her  hand  to  Donald, 
exclaimed  with  a  coy,  insinuating  smile : 

"I  am  sure  that  you  must  be  Mr.  Maxwell.    I  am 


SENIOR   WARDEN  43 

so  glad  to  see  you.  I  hope  I  am  not  interrupting 
professional  confidences." 

"Not  in  the  least,"  Donald  replied,  as  he  placed 
a  chair  for  her.  "I  am  very  glad  to  have  the  pleas 
ure  of  meeting  you,  Miss  Bascom." 

"I  heard  last  night  that  you  had  arrived,  Mr.  Max 
well;  and  I  am  sure  that  it  is  very  good  of  you  to 
come  and  see  papa  so  soon.  I  hope  to  see  you  at  our 
house  before  long.  You  know  that  we  are  in  the 
habit  of  seeing  a  good  deal  of  the  rector,  because — 
you  will  excuse  my  frankness — because  there  are  so 
few  people  of  culture  and  refinement  in  this  town  to 
make  it  pleasant  for  him." 

"I  am  sure  that  you  are  very  kind,"  Donald  replied. 
Miss  Bascom  had  adjusted  her  tortoise-shell  lorg 
nette,  and  was  surveying  Donald  from  head  to 
foot. 

"Is  your  wife  with  you?"  she  inquired,  as  one  who 
would  say:  "Tell  me  no  lies!" 

"No,  I  am  not  married." 

At  once  she  was  one  radiant  smile  of  welcome: 

"Papa,  we  must  do  all  we  can  to  make  Mr.  Max 
well  feel  at  home  at  Willow  Bluff — so  that  he  will 
not  get  lonesome  and  desert  us,"  she  added  genially. 

"You're  very  kind." 

"You  must  come  and  dine  with  us  very  soon  and 


44  HEPSEY  BURKE 

see  our  place  for  yourself.  You  are  staying  with  Mrs. 
Burke,  I  understand." 

"Yes." 

"How  does  she  impress  you?" 

"I  hardly  know  her  well  enough  to  form  any  defin 
ite  opinion  of  her,  though  she  has  been  kindness 
itself  to  me." 

"Yes,  she  has  a  sharp  tongue,  but  a  kind  heart; 
and  she  does  a  great  deal  of  good  in  the  village;  but, 
poor  soul!  she  has  no  sense  of  humor — none  what 
ever.  Then  of  course  she  is  not  in  society,  you  know. 
You  will  find,  Mr.  Maxwell,  that  social  lines  are  very 
carefully  drawn  in  this  town;  there  are  so  many 
grades,  and  one  has  to  be  careful,  you  know." 

"Is  it  so  I  How  many  people  are  there  in  the 
town?" 

"Possibly  eight  or  nine  hundred." 

"And  how  many  of  them  are  'in  society'?" 

"Oh,  I  should  imagine  not  more  than  twenty  or 
thirty." 

"They  must  be  very  select." 

"Oh,  we  are;  quite  so." 

"Don't  you  ever  get  tired  of  seeing  the  same  twenty 
or  thirty  all  the  time?  I'm  afraid  I  am  sufficiently 
vulgar  to  like  a  change,  once  in  a  while — somebody 
real  common,  you  know." 


SENIOR  WARDEN  45; 

Miss  Bascom  raised  her  lorgnette  in  pained  sur 
prise  and  gazed  at  Donald  curiously;  then  she  sighed 
and  tapping  her  fingers  with  her  glasses  replied: 

"But  one  has  to  consider  the  social  responsibilities 
of  one's  position,  you  know.  Many  of  the  village 
people  are  well  enough  in  their  way,  really  quite 
amusing  as  individuals;  but  one  cannot  alter  social 
distinctions." 

"I  see,"  replied  Donald,  non-committally. 

Virginia  was  beginning  to  think  that  the  new  rec 
tor  war  :her  dull  in  his  perceptions,  rather  gauche, 
but,  deciding  to  take  a  charitable  view,  she  held  out 
her  hand  with  a  beaming  smile  as  she  said: 

"Remember,  you  are  to  make  Willow  Bluff  one  of 
your  homes.  We  shall  always  be  charmed  to  see 
you." 

When,  after  their  respective  shoppings  were  com 
pleted,  Maxwell  rejoined  Mrs.  Burke,  and  they  had 
started  on  a  brisk  trot  towards  home,  she  re 
marked  : 

"So  you  have  had  a  visit  with  the  Senior  Warden." 

"Yes,  and  with  Miss  Bascom.  She  came  into  the 
office  while  I  was  there." 

"Hm!    Well!    She's  one  of  your  flock  I" 

"Would  you  call  Miss  Bascom  one  of  my  lambs?" 
asked  Donald  mischievously. 


46  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"Oh,  that  depends  on  where  you  draw  the  line. 
Don't  you  think  she's  handsome?" 

"I  can  hardly  say.    What  do  you  think  about  it?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  When  she's  well  dressed  she 
has  a  sort  of  style  about  her;  but  isn't  it  merciful 
that  we  none  of  us  know  how  we  really  do  look?  If 
we  did,  we  wouldn't  risk  bein'  alone  with  ourselves 
five  minutes  without  a  gun." 

"Is  that  one  for  Miss  Bascom?" 

"No,  I  ought  not  to  say  a  word  against  Virginia 
Bascom.  She's  a  good  sort  accordin'  to  her  lights; 
and  then  too,  she  is  a  disconnection  of  mine  by  mar 
riage — once  removed." 

"How  do  you  calculate  that  relationship?" 

"Oh,  her  mother's  brother  married  my  sister.  She 
suspected  that  he  was  guilty  of  incompatibility — and 
she  proved  it,  and  got  a  divorce.  If  that  don't  make 
a  disconnection  of  Ginty  Bascom,  then  I  don't  know 
what  does.  Virginia  was  born  in  Boston,  though  she 
was  brought  up  here.  It  must  be  terrible  to  be  born 
in  Boston,  and  have  to  live  up  to  it,  when  you  spend 
your  whole  life  in  a  place  like  Durford.  But  Ginty 
does  her  very  best,  though  occasionally  she  forgets." 

"You  can  hardly  blame  her  for  that.  Memory  is 
tricky,  and  Boston  and  Durford  are  about  as  unlike 
as  two  places  well  could  be." 


SENIOR  WARDEN  47. 

"Oh,  no;  I  don't  blame  her.  Once  she  formed  a 
club  for  woman's  suffrage.  She  set  out  to  'form  my 
mind' — as  if  my  mind  wasn't  pretty  thoroughly 
formed  at  this  time  of  day — and  get  me  to  protest 
against  the  tyranny  of  the  male  sex.  I  didn't  see  that 
the  male  sex  was  troublin'  her  much;  but  I  signed  a 
petition  she  got  up  to  send  to  the  Governor  or  some 
body,  asking  for  the  right  to  vote.  There  was  an 
opposition  society  that  didn't  want  the  ballot,  and 
they  got  up  another  petition." 

"And  you  signed  that  too,  I  expect,"  laughed  Don 
ald. 

"Sure  thing,  I  did.  I'm  not  narrow-minded,  and 
I  like  to  be  obliging.  Then  she  tried  what  she  called 
slummin',  which,  as  near  as  I  can  see,  means  walkin' 
in  where  you  aint  wanted,  because  people  are  poorer 
than  you  are,  and  leavin'  little  tracts  that  nobody 
reads,  and  currant  jelly  that  nobody  eats,  and  clothes 
that  nobody  can  wear.  But  an  Irishman  shied  a  cab 
bage  at  her  head  while  she  was  tryin'  to  convince  him 
that  the  bath-tub  wasn't  really  a  coal  bin,  and  that 
his  mental  attitude  was  hindside  before. 

"Then  she  got  to  be  a  Theosophist,  and  used  to 
sit  in  her  room  upstairs  projecting  her  astral  body 
out  of  the  window  into  the  back  yard,  and  pulling  it 
in  again  like  a  ball  on  a  rubber  string — just  for  prac- 


48  HEPSEY  BURKE 

tice,  you  know.     But  that  attack  didn't  last  long." 

"She  seems  to  be  a  very  versatile  young  woman; 
but  she  doesn't  stick  to  one  thing  very  long." 

"A  rolling  stone  gathers  no  moss,  you  know,"  Mrs. 
Burke  replied.  "That's  one  of  the  advantages  of 
bein'  a  rolling  stone.  It  must  be  awful  to  get  mossy; 
and  there  isn't  any  moss  on  Virginia  Bascom,  what 
ever  faults  she  may  have — not  a  moss." 

For  a  moment  Mrs.  Burke  was  silent,  and  then 
she  began: 

"Once  Virginia  got  to  climbin'  her  family  tree,  to 
find  out  where  her  ancestors  came  from.  She  thought 
that  possibly  they  might  be  noblemen.  But  I  guess 
there  wasn't  very  much  doin'  up  the  tree  until  she  got 
down  to  New  York,  and  paid  a  man  to  tell  her.  She 
brought  back  an  illuminated  coat  of  arms  with  a  lion 
rampantin'  on  top ;  but  she  was  the  same  old  Virginia 
still.  What  do  I  care  about  my  ancestors !  It  doesn't 
make  no  difference  to  me.  I'm  just  myself  anyway, 
no  matter  how  you  figure;  and  I'm  a  lot  more  wor 
ried  about  where  I'm  goin'  to,  than  where  I  came 
from.  Virginia's  got  a  book  called  'Who's  Who,' 
that  she's  always  studying.  But  the  only  thing  that 
matters,  it  seems  to  me,  is  Who's  What." 

"I  wonder  she  hasn't  married,"  remarked  Donald, 
innocently. 


SENIOR  WARDEN  49 

"Ah,  that's  the  trouble.  She's  like  a  thousand 
others  without  no  special  occupation  in  life.  She's 
wastin'  a  lot  of  bottled  up  interest  and  sympathy  on 
foolish  things.  If  she'd  married  and  had  seven  babies, 
they  would  have  seen  to  it  that  she  didn't  make  a 
fool  of  herself.  However,  it  isn't  her  fault.  She's 
volunteered  to  act  as  Deaconess  to  every  unmarried 
parson  we've  had;  and  it's  a  miracle  of  wonders  one 
of  'em  didn't  succumb ;  parsons  are  such — oh,  do  ex 
cuse  me !  I  mean  so  injudicious  on  the  subject  of 
matrimony." 

"But,  Mrs.  Burke,  don't  you  think  a  clergyman 
ought  to  be  a  married  man  ?" 

"Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  t'aint  me  that's  been 
doin'  the  thinkin'  along  those  lines,  for  most  of  the 
parsons  we've  had.  I've  been  more  of  a  first  aid  to 
the  injured,  in  the  matrimonial  troubles  of  our  par 
ish,  and  the  Lord  only  knows  when  love-making  has 
got  as  far  as  actual  injury  to  the  parties  engaged, — 
well  thinkin'  aint  much  use.  But  there's  Ginty  for 
example.  She's  been  worryin'  herself  thin  for  the 
last  five  years,  doin'  matrimonial  equations  for  the 
clergy.  She's  a  firm  believer  in  the  virtue  of  pa 
tience,  and  if  the  Lord  only  keeps  on  sendin'  us 
unmarried  rectors,  Ginty  is  goin'  to  have  her  day. 
It's  just  naturally  bound  to  come.  I  aint  sure  whether 


50  HEPSEY  BURKE 

she's  got  a  right  to  be  still  runnin'  with  the  lambs  or 
not,  but  that  don't  matter  much, — old  maids  will 
rush  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread." 

Maxwell  smiled.  "Old  maids,  and  old  bachelors, 
are  pretty  much  alike.  I  know  a  few  of  the  latter, 
that  no  woman  on  earth  could  make  into  regular 
human  beings." 

"Oh,  yes;  old  bachelors  aren't  the  nicest  thing  the 
Lord  ever  made.  Most  of  'em  are  mighty  selfish 
critters,  take  'em  as  they  run ;  and  a  man  that's  never 
had  a  real  great  love  in  his  life  doesn't  know  what 
life  is." 

"That's  quite  true,"  Donald  responded,  with  such 
warmth  that  Mrs.  Burke  glanced  at  him  suspiciously, 
and  changed  her  tune,  as  she  continued: 

"Seems  to  me  a  parson,  or  any  other  man,  is  very 
foolish  to  marry  before  he  can  support  a  wife  com 
fortably,  and  lay  by  somethin'  for  a  rainy  day,  though. 
The  last  rector  had  five  babies  and  seventeen  cents 
to  feed  'em  with.  Yes,  there  were  little  olive  branches 
on  all  four  sides  of  the  table,  and  under  the  table  too. 
The  Whittimores  seemed  to  have  their  quiver  full  of 
'em,  as  the  psalmist  says.  Mrs.  Whittimore  used  to 
say  to  me,  'The  Lord  will  provide,' — just  to  keep  her 
courage  up,  poor  thing!  Well,  I  suppose  the  Lord 
did  provide;  but  I  had  to  do  a  lot  of  hustlin',  just 


SENIOR  WARDEN  51 

the  same.  No  sir,  if  a  parson  marries,  he  better  find 
a  woman  who  has  outgrown  her  short  skirts.  Young 
things  dyin'  to  be  martyrs  with  a  good  lookin'  young 
parson,  are  a  drug  in  the  market.  Better  go  slow." 
And  Hepsey  looked  up  at  him  significantly. 

"Then  you  think  it  would  be  inadvisable  to  propose 
to  Miss  Virginia  immediately,  do  you?"  Donald 
asked,  as  if  humbly  seeking  guidance. 

"Well,  there  doesn't  seem  to  be  any  immediate 
hurry  about  it.  Now  if  you'll  open  the  gate  to  Thun 
der  Cliff,  I'll  be  much  obliged  to  you.  If  I  don't  get 
my  mind  on  something  less  romantic  than  Virginia, 
we  shall  have  to  dine  off  airy  fancies — and  that  wont 
suit  Nickey,  for  one." 


ETTY,  my  love: 

I  can  imagine  that  just  about  this  time  you 
have  finished  your  dinner,  and  are  enjoying 
your  after-dinner  coffee  in  the  library  with  your 
father.  I  would  give  all  that  I  possess,  though 
heaven  knows  that  is  mighty  little,  to  be  with  you 
and  get  you  to  talk  to  me,  and  let  me  tell  you  all  that 
has  happened  since  I  left  you.  But  instead  of  that  I 
am  alone  in  my  room  with  your  picture  on  the  table 
while  I  write,  and  it  is  the  middle  of  the  evening  with 

52 


MILKING  53 

us  on  the  farm.  I  have  a  bright  wood  fire  on  the 
hearth,  as  it's  a  bit  chilly  to-night. 

To-day  I  have  almost  completed  my  first  round  of 
parish  visits,  and  the  experience  has  been  a  revelation 
to  me  of  the  mixture  of  pathetic  narrowness,  hard 
ship,  and  self-denial  of  the  people  up  here  in  the 
mountains.  One  minute  I  am  all  out  of  patience  with 
their  stupidity,  and  the  next  I  am  touched  to  the  heart 
by  their  patience  with  unendurable  conditions,  and 
their  generosity  and  kindness  to  each  other.  I  hope 
to  be  able  to  adjust  my  mental  equilibrium  to  the  sit 
uation  before  long  and  to  learn  to  understand  them 
better;  I  find  that  a  country  parson  must  be  a  man 
of  many  accomplishments,  and  that  I  have  to  learn 
my  profession  all  over  again.  Yesterday  I  called  on 
a  poor  shriveled  old  woman  who,  I  was  told,  was  in 
trouble.  When  I  asked  her  what  I  could  do  for  her, 
she  brightened  up  and  informed  me  that  her  apple 
trees  were  full  of  worms !  So  there  was  nothing  for 
it  but  to  take  off  my  coat  and  vest,  roll  up  my  sleeves, 
and  burn  out  the  worms.  I  must  have  destroyed 
about  a  bushel,  more  or  less.  It  took  most  of  the 
afternoon;  but  she  was  pleased,  and  appeared  in 
church  this  morning  for  the  first  time  in  six  years. 

I  have  learned  a  lot  about  the  rotation  of  crops, 
helped  to  dig  a  well,  and  attended  a  barn  dance.  I 


54  HEPSEY  BURKE 

have  eaten  pickles  by  the  score  at  teas  given  in  my 
honor,  rather  than  offend  the  hostess;  and  have  had 
horrible  nights  in  consequence.  Every  morning 
Nickey  and  I  take  the  milk  down  to  the  creamery  be 
fore  breakfast.  I  am  so  tanned  that  you  would  hardly 
recognize  me;  and  I  must  confess  with  shame  that  1 
am  never  more  happy  than  when  I  am  able  to  put  on 
my  soiled  working  clothes  and  do  manual  labor  on 
the  farm.  I  suppose  it  is  the  contrast  to  my  former 
life,  and  the  fact  that  it  takes  my  thoughts  away  from 
the  longing  for  you. 

The  men  up  here  seem  to  think  I  know  mighty  lit 
tle.  It's  very  humiliating!  But  since  they  discov 
ered  that  I  am  neither  "  Yistocratic"  nor  "pious,"  they 
seem  to  be  friendly  enough.  I  often  find  myself  won 
dering  if  much  of  the  work  in  the  seminary  wasn't  a 
sheer  waste  of  time,  when  I  am  brought  up  against 
the  practical,  commonplace,  every-day  life  of  these 
people.  My  friend  Mrs.  Burke  has  a  fund  of  com 
mon  sense  and  worldly  wisdom  which  is  worth  more 
than  any  Ph.D.  or  S.T.D.  represents,  to  help  a  man 
to  meet  the  hard  facts  of  life  successfully;  and  she 
has  been  very  nice  and  considerate  in  making  sug 
gestions  to  me — always  wrapped  up  in  a  humor  all 
her  own.  I  have  found  it  practically  impossible  to 
get  into  touch  with  the  farmers  of  the  neighborhood 


MILKING  55 

without  becoming  more  or  less  of  a  farmer  myself, 
and  learning  by  actual  experience  what  the  life  is  like. 
One  man  was  so  openly  supercilious  when  he  found 
out  that  I  did  not  know  how  to  milk,  that  Mrs.  Burke, 
who  is  nothing  if  not  practical,  offered  to  show 
me. 

I  have  acquired  a  suit  of  overalls,  and  a  wide- 
brimmed  straw  hat;  and  so,  attiring  myself  in  the 
most  orthodox  fashion,  Mrs.  Burke  and  I  went  to 
the  shed  yesterday  where  Louise,  the  Jersey  cow, 
abides,  and  I  took  my  first  lesson  in  milking.  Mrs. 
Burke  carefully  explained  to  me  the  modus  operandi 
I  was  to  pursue;  and  so,  taking  the  tin  pail  between 
my  knees,  I  seated  myself  on  the  three-legged  stool 
by  the  side  of  Louise,  and  timidly  began  operations. 
She  seemed  to  know  by  some  bovine  instinct  that  I 
was  a  tenderfoot;  and  although  I  followed  Mrs. 
Burke's  instructions  to  the  letter,  no  milk  put  in  its 
appearance.  Mrs.  Burke  was  highly  amused  at  my 
perplexity.  Finally  she  remarked : 

"You've  got  to  introduce  yourself,  and  get  Louise's 
confidence  before  she'll  give  down.  She  thinks  that 
you  are  too  familiar  on  a  short  acquaintance.  Now 
talk  to  her  a  bit,  and  be  friendly." 

This  was  somewhat  of  a  poser,  as  Louise  and  I 
really  have  not  much  in  common,  and  I  was  at  a  loss 


56  HEPSEY  BURKE 

where  to  begin.  But  something  had  to  be  done,  and 
so  I  made  a  venture  and  remarked: 

"Louise,  the  wind  is  in  the  south;  and  if  it  doesn't 
change,  we  shall  certainly  have  rain  within  three 
days." 

This  did  not  seem  to  have  the  desired  effect.  In 
fact,  she  ignored  my  remark  in  the  most  contemptu 
ous  fashion.  Then  Mrs.  Burke  suggested: 

"Get  up,  and  come  round  where  she  can  see  you. 
No  lady  wants  to  be  talked  to  by  a  gentleman  that's 
out  of  sight." 

So  I  got  up  and  went  around  by  her  head,  fed  her 
some  clover,  patted  her  on  the  neck,  rubbed  her  nose, 
and  began  a  little  mild,  persuasive  appeal : 

"Louise,  I  am  really  a  man  of  irreproachable  char 
acter.  I  am  a  son  of  the  Revolution;  I  held  three 
scholarships  in  Harvard;  and  I  graduated  second  in 
my  class  at  the  General  Sem.  Furthermore,  I'm  not 
at  all  accustomed  to  being  snubbed  by  ladies.  Can't 
you  make  up  your  mind  to  be  obliging?" 

Louise  sniffed  at  me  inquiringly,  gazing  at  me  with 
large-eyed  curiosity.  Then  as  if  in  token  that  she 
had  come  to  a  favorable  conclusion,  she  ran  out  her 
tongue  and  licked  my  hand.  When  I  resumed  opera 
tions,  the  milk  poured  into  the  pail,  and  Mrs.  Burke 
was  just  congratulating  me  on  my  complete  success, 


MILKING  57 

when,  by  some  accident  the  stool  slipped,  and  I  fell 
over  backwards,  and  the  whole  contents  of  the  pail 
was  poured  on  the  ground.  My!  but  wasn't  I  dis 
gusted?  I  thought  Mrs.  Burke  would  never  stop 
laughing  at  me ;  but  she  was  good  enough  not  to  al 
lude  to  the  loss  of  the  milk! 

Some  day  when  we  are  married,  and  you  come  up 
here,  I  will  take  you  out  and  introduce  you  to  Louise, 
and  she  will  fall  in  love  with  you  on  the  spot. 

My  most  difficult  task  is  my  Senior  Warden — and 
it  looks  as  if  he  would  not  make  friends,  do  what  I 
will  to  "qualify"  according  to  his  own  expressed  no 
tions  of  what  a  country  parson  should  be.  But  I 
rather  suspect  that  he  likes  to  keep  the  scepter  in  his 
own  hands,  while  the  clergy  do  his  bidding..  But  that 
wont  do  for  me. 

So  you  see  the  life  up  here  is  interesting  from  its 
very  novelty,  though  I  do  get  horribly  lonesome, 
sometimes.  If  I  had  not  pledged  myself  to  the 
Bishop  to  stay  and  work  the  parish  together  into 
something  like  an  organization,  I  am  afraid  I  should 
be  tempted  to  cut  and  run — back  to  you,  sweetheart. 

And  there  was  a  post  script : 

"I've  not  said  half  enough  of  how  much  Mrs. 
Burke's  wisdom  has  taught  and  helped  me.  She  is 
a  shrewd  observer  of  human  motives,  and  I  expect 


58  HEPSEY  BURKE 

she  has  had  a  struggle  to  keep  the  sweetness  of  her 
nature  at  the  top.  She  is,  naturally,  a  capable,  dom 
inating  character;  and  often  I  watch  how  she  forces 
herself  to  let  persuasiveness  take  precedence  of  com- 
bativeness.  Her  acquired  philosophy,  as  applied  to 
herself  and  others,  is  summed  up  in  a  saying  she  let 
drop  the  other  day,  modified  to  suit  her  needs :  'More 
flies  are  caught  with  molasses  than  with  vinegar — but 
keep  some  vinegar  by  you !'  Verb.  Sap.!" 


MU 


IT  happened  that  the  "Reverend  Donald  Maxwell 
committed  a   careless   indiscretion.     When   he 
went  to  his  room  to  prepare  for  supper,  he  found 
that  he  had  left  the  miniature  of  a  certain  young  lady 
on  the  mantelpiece,  having  forgotten  to  return  it  to 
its  hiding-place  the  night  before.    He  quickly  placed 
it  in  its  covering  and  locked  it  up  in  his  desk,  but  not 
without  many  misgivings  at  the  thought  that  Mrs. 
Burke  had  probably  discovered  it  when  she  put  his 
room  in  order. 

59 


60  HEPSEY  BURKE 

He  was  quite  right  in  his  surmise,  for  just  as  she 
was  about  to  leave  the  room  she  had  caught  sight  of 
the  picture,  and,  after  examining  it  carefully,  she  had 
exclaimed  to  herself: 

"Hm!  Hm!  So  that's  the  young  woman,  is  it? 
In  a  gilded  frame  set  with  real  glass  rubies  and  tur 
quoises.  I  guessed  those  letters  couldn't  come  from 
his  mother.  She  wouldn't  write  to  him  every  blessed 
day;  she'd  take  a  day  off  now  and  then,  just  to  rest 
up  a  bit.  Well,  well,  well!  So  this  is  what  you've 
been  dreaming  about;  and  a  mighty  good  thing  too — 
only  the  sooner  it's  known  the  better.  But  I  suppose 
I'll  have  to  wait  for  his  reverence  to  inform  me  offi 
cially,  and  then  I'll  have  to  look  mighty  surprised! 
She's  got  a  good  face,  anyway;  but  he  ought  to  wait 
awhile.  Poor  soul!  she'd  just  die  of  loneliness  up 
here.  Well,  I  suppose  it'll  be  my  business  to  look 
after  her,  and  I  reckon  I'd  best  take  time  by  the  fet 
lock,  and  get  the  rectory  in  order.  It  isn't  fit  for  rats 
to  live  in  now." 

Mrs.  Burke's  discovery  haunted  her  all  day  long, 
and  absorbed  her  thoughts  when  she  went  to  bed.  If 
Maxwell  was  really  engaged  to  be  married,  she  did 
not  see  why  he  did  not  announce  the  fact,  and  have  it 
over  with.  She  had  to  repeat  her  prayers  three  times 
before  she  could  keep  the  girl  in  the  gilt  frame  out 


THE  MINIATURE  61 

of  them;  and  she  solved  the  problem  by  praying  that 
she  might  not  make  a  fool  of  herself. 

The  next  morning  she  went  over  to  Jonathan  Jack 
son's  house  to  see  what  her  friend  and  neighbor,  the 
Junior  Warden,  would  say  about  the  matter.  He 
could  be  trusted  to  keep  silent  and  assist  her  to  carry 
out  some  provisional  plans.  She  knew  exactly  what 
she  wished  and  what  she  intended  to  do ;  but  she  im 
agined  that  she  wanted  the  pleasure  of  hearing  some 
one  tell  her  that  she  was  exactly  right. 

Jonathan  Jackson  was  precisely  the  person  to  sat 
isfy  the  demand,  as  his  deceased  wife  had  never  al 
lowed  him  to  have  any  opinion  for  more  than  fifteen 
minutes  at  a  time — if  it  differed  from  hers;  and  when 
she  had  made  a  pretense  of  consulting  him,  he  had 
learned  by  long  experience  to  hesitate  for  a  moment, 
look  judicially  wise,  and  then  repeat  her  suggestions 
as  nearly  as  he  could  remember  them.  So  Jonathan 
made  a  most  excellent  friend  and  neighbor,  when 
any  crisis  or  emergency  called  for  an  expert  opin 
ion. 

Mrs.  Burke  had  been  an  intimate  friend  of  Sarah 
Jackson,  and  just  before  Mrs.  Jackson  died  she  made 
Hepsey  promise  that  after  she  was  gone  she  would 
keep  a  friendly  eye  on  Jonathan,  and  see  that  he  did 
not  get  into  mischief,  or  let  the  house  run  down,  or 


62  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"live  just  by  eatin'  odds  and  ends  off  the  pantry  shelf 
any  old  way."  Mrs.  Jackson  entertained  no  illusions 
in  regard  to  her  husband,  and  she  trusted  Hepsey 
implicitly.  So,  after  Mrs.  Jackson's  mortal  depart 
ure,  Hepsey  made  periodic  calls  on  Jonathan,  which 
always  gave  him  much  pleasure  until  she  became  in 
quisitive  about  his  methods  of  housekeeping;  then 
he  would  grow  reticent. 

"Good  morning,  Jonathan,"  Hepsey  called,  as  she 
presented  herself  at  the  woodshed  door,  wrhere  she 
caught  Jonathan  mending  some  of  his  underclothes 
laboriously. 

"Well,  I  declare,"  she  continued,  "I'm  blessed  if 
you  aint  sewin'  white  buttons  on  with  black  thread. 
Is  anybody  dead  in  the  family,  or  aint  you  feelin'  well 
as  to  your  head  this  mornin'  ?" 

His  voice  quavered  with  mingled  embarrassment 
and  resentment  as  he  replied : 

"What  difference  does  it  make,  Hepsey?  It  don't 
make  no  difference,  as  long  as  nobody  don't  see  it  but 


me." 


"And  why  in  the  name  of  conscience  don't  you  get 
a  thimble,  Jonathan?  The  idea  of  your  stickin'  the 
needle  in,  and  then  pressin'  it  against  the  chair  to 
make  it  go  through.  If  that  aint  just  like  a  helpless 
man,  I  wouldn't  say." 


1  M  BLESSED  IF  YOU  AIM  T  SEWIN  WHITE  BUTTONS  ON  WITH 
BLACK  THREAD.  IS  ANYBODY  DEAD  IN  THE  FAMILY,  OR  AIN'T  YOU 
FEELIN'  WELL  THIS  MORNIN'?" 


THE  MINIATURE  63 

"Well,  of  course  sewin'  aint  just  a  man's  business, 
anyway;  and  when  he  has  just  got  to  do  it " 

"Why  dont  you  let  Mary  McGuire  do  it  for  you? 
You  pay  her  enough,  certainly,  to  keep  you  from  be- 
comin'  a  buttonless  orphan." 

Mary  McGuire,  be  it  said,  was  the  woman  who 
came  in  by  the  day,  and  cooked  for  Jonathan,  and 
intermittently  cleaned  him  out  of  house  and  home. 

"She  don't  know  much  about  such  things,"  replied 
Jonathan  confidentially.  "I  did  let  her  do  it  for  a 
while;  but  when  my  buttonholes  got  tore  larger,  in 
stead  of  sewin'  'em  up,  she  just  put  on  a  larger  but 
ton;  and  I'd  be  buttomn'  my  pants  with  the  covers  of 
saucepans  by  now,  if  I'd  let  her  go  on." 

"It  is  curious  what  helpless  critters  men  are,  spe 
cially  widowers.  Now  Jonathan,  why  don't  you  lay 
aside  your  sewin',  and  invite  me  into  your  parlor? 
You  aren't  a  bit  polite." 

"Well,  come  along  then,  Hepsey;  but  the  parlor 
aint  just  in  apple-pie  order,  as  you  might  say.  Things 
are  mussed  up  a  bit."  He  looked  at  her  suspiciously. 

When  they  entered  the  parlor  Mrs.  Burke  gazed 
about  in  a  critical  sort  of  way. 

"Jonathan  Jackson,  if  you  don't  get  married  again 
before  long  I  don't  know  what'll  become  of  you,"  she 
remarked,  as  she  wrote  her  name  with  the  end  of  her 


64  HEPSEY  BURKE 

finger  in  the  dust  on  the  center-table.  "Why  don't 
you  open  the  parlor  occasionally  and  let  the  air  in? 
It  smells  that  musty  in  here  I  feel  as  if  I  was  at- 
tendin'  your  wife's  funeral  all  over  again." 

"Well,  of  course  you  know  we  never  did  use  the 
parlor  much,  'cept  there  was  a  funeral  in  the  family, 
or  you  called,  or  things  like  that." 

"Thank  you;  but  even  so,  you  might  put  things 
away  occasionally,  and  not  leave  them  scattered  all 
over  the  place." 

"What's  the  use?  I  never  can  find  anything  when 
it's  where  it  belongs;  but  if  it's  left  just  where  I  drop 
it,  I  know  right  where  it  is  when  I  want  it." 

"That's  a  man's  argument.  Sakes  alive!  The 
least  you  could  do  would  be  to  shut  your  bureau  draw 
ers." 

"What's  the  use  shuttin'  bureau  drawers  when 
you've  got  to  open  'em  again  'fore  long?"  Jonathan 
asked.  "It  just  makes  so  much  more  trouble;  and 
there's  trouble  enough  in  this  world,  anyway." 

"You  wouldn't  dare  let  hings  go  like  this  when 
Sarah  was  livin'." 

"No,'  Jonathan  replied  sadly,  "but  there's  some 
advantages  in  bein'  a  widower.  Of  course  I  don't 
mean  no  disrespect  to  Sarah,  but  opinions  will  differ 
about  some  things.  She'd  never  let  me  go  up  the 


THE  MINIATURE  65 

front  stairs  without  takin'  my  boots  off,  so  as  not  to 
soil  the  carpet;  and  when  she  died  and  the  relatives 
tramped  up  and  down  reckless  like,  I  almost  felt  as 
if  it  was  wicked.  For  a  fact,  I  did." 

"Well,  I  always  told  Sarah  she  was  a  slave  to  dust; 
I  believe  that  dust  worried  her  a  lot  more  than  her 
conscience,  poor  soul.  I  should  think  that  Mary  Mc- 
Guire  would  tidy  up  for  you  a  little  bit  once  in  a 
while." 

"Well,  Mary  does  the  best  she  knows  how.  But  I 
like  her  goin'  better  than  comin'.  The  fact  is,  a  man 
of  my  age  can't  live  alone  always,  Hepsey.  It's  a 
change  to  live  this  way,  till " 

"Oh,  heaven  save  the  mark !  I  can't  stay  here  talk- 
in'  all  day;  but  I'll  tidy  up  a  bit  before  I  go,  if  you 
don't  mind,  Jonathan.  You  go  on  with  what  you  call 
your  sewin'." 

"Go  ahead,  Hepsey.  You  can  do  anything  you 
like,"  he  replied,  beaming  upon  her. 

Mrs.  Burke  opened  the  blinds  and  windows,  shook 
up  the  pillows  on  the  lounge,  straightened  the  furni 
ture,  dusted  off  the  chairs  and  opened  the  door  to  the 
porch.  She  made  a  flying  trip  to  the  garden,  and  re 
turned  with  a  big  bunch  of  flowers  which  she  placed 
in  a  large  glass  vase  on  the  mantel.  Then  she  hung 
Jonathan's  dressing  gown  over  the  back  of  a  chair, 


66  HEPSEY  BURKE 

and  put  his  slippers  suggestively  near  at  hand.  In  a 
few  moments  she  had  transformed  the  whole  appear 
ance  of  the  room,  giving  it  a  look  of  homelike  cozi- 
ness  which  had  long  been  foreign  to  it. 

"There  now,  Jonathan!    That's  better,  isn't  it?" 

Jonathan  sighed  profoundly  as  he  replied: 

"It  certainly  is,  Hepsey;  it  certainly  is.  I  wonder 
why  a  man  can't  do  that  kind  of  thing  like  a  woman 
can?  He  knows  somethin's  wrong,  but  he  can't  tell 
what  it  is." 

Hepsey  had  almost  forgotten  her  errand;  but  now 
that  her  work  was  done  it  came  back  to  her  with  sud 
den  force;  so,  puckering  up  her  lips  and  scowling 
severely  at  the  carpet,  she  began : 

"The  fact  is,  Jonathan,  I  didn't  come  over  here  to 
dust  the  parlor  or  to  jolly  you.  I've  come  to  have  a 
confidential  talk  with  you  about  a  matter  of  great  im 
portance." 

"What  is  it,  Hepsey?" 

"Matrimony." 

Jonathan  started  eagerly,  and  colored  with  self- 
conscious  embarrassment;  and  after  clearing  his 
throat,  nervously  inquired: 

"Did  you  think  of  contemplatin'  matrimony  again, 
Hepsey? — though  this  aint  leap  year." 

"I,  contemplate  matrimony?    Oh,  land  of  Gideon, 


THE  MINIATURE  67 

no.  It's  about  some  one  else.  Don't  get  scared.  I'm 
no  kidnapper!" 

"Well,  who  is  it,  then?"  Jonathan  inquired,  with  a 
touch  of  disappointment. 

"My  adopted  son." 

"You  don't  say!  I've  heard  rumors  about  Max 
well  and  Virginia  Bascom ;  but  I  didn't  take  no  stock 
in  'em,  knowin'  Virginia." 

"Virginia  hasn't  nothin'  to  do  with  it." 

"Well,  who  has  then,  for  land's  sake !" 

"I  don't  know  the  girl's  name;  but  I  saw  her  pic 
ture  on  his  mantelpiece  yesterday  mornin',  and  I've 
had  my  suspicions  for  some  time." 

"Well,  I  suppose  his  marryin'  aint  none  of  our 
business  anyway,  be  it?" 

"Yes,  it  is  our  business;  if  he's  goin'  to  get  mar 
ried,  the  rectory's  got  to  be  fixed  over  a  whole  lot 
'fore  it's  fit  to  live  in.  You  know  the  Senior  Warden 
wont  lift  his  finger,  and  you've  got  to  help  me  do  it." 

Jonathan  sighed  profoundly,  knowing  from  past 
experience  that  Hepsey's  word  carried  more  weight 
than  all  the  vestry. 

"I  suppose  I  have,  if  you  say  so,  Hepsey." 

"Yes  sir,  you've  got  to  help  me  do  it.  No  decent 
girl  is  goin'  into  that  house  as  it  is,  with  my  consent. 
It's  the  worst  old  rat-trap  I  ever  saw.  I've  got  the 


68  HEPSEY  BURKE 

key,  and  I'm  goin'  through  it  this  afternoon,  and  then 
I'm  goin'  to  plan  what  ought  to  be  done." 

"But  it  seems  to  me  you're  venturin'  some.  You 
don't  know  they're  goin'  to  be  married." 

"No,  but  all  the  symptoms  point  that  way,  and 
we've  got  to  be  prepared  for  it." 

"But  the  people  round  town  seem  to  think  that 
Virginia  has  a  first  mortgage  on  the  rector  al 
ready." 

"No  doubt  she  thinks  she  has;  but  it  aint  true. 
He's  made  a  blunder,  though,  not  announcin'  his  en 
gagement,  and  I'm  goin'  to  tell  him  so  the  first  chance 
I  get.  I  don't  see  why  he  should  air  his  private  affairs 
all  over  the  town,  but  if  he  don't  announce  his  en 
gagement  before  long,  Virginia  Bascom  '11  make  an 
awful  row  when  he  does." 

"Yes,  and  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and  belief 
this'll  be  her  fifth  row." 

"Well,  you  meet  me  at  the  rectory  at  two  o'clock 
sharp." 

"But  we  ought  to  consult  the  vestry  first,"  the 
Junior  Warden  cautioned  her. 

"What  for,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"  'Cause  they  are  the  trustees  of  the  property." 

"Then  why  don't  they  'tend  to  the  property?  The 
vestry  are  a  lot  of " 


THE  MINIATURE  69 

"Sh!  Hepsey,  be  careful.  I'll  be  there,  I'll  be 
there!" 

Mrs.  Burke  rose  and  started  for  the  door;  but  Jon 
athan  called  out  to  her: 

"Hepsey,  can't  you  stay  to  dinner?  I'd  like  awful 
well  to  have  you.  It  would  seem  so  nice  and  home 
like  to  see  you  sittin'  opposite  me  at  the  table." 

"Am  I  to  consider  this  a  proposal  of  marriage, 
Jonathan?" 

"Well,  I  hadn't  thought  of  it  in  that  light;  but  if 
you  would,  I'd  be  mighty  thankful." 

But  Hepsey  was  beating  her  retreat. 

Jonathan  stood  for  a  minute  or  two  in  the  middle 
of  the  room  and  looked  very  sober.  Slowly  he  took 
off  his  coat  and  put  on  his  dressing  gown.  Then  he 
sat  down,  and  cautiously  put  his  feet  in  another  chair. 
Next  he  lighted  a  cigar — gazing  about  the  room  'as  if 
his  late  wife  might  appear  at  any  moment  as  an  aveng 
ing  deity,  and  drag  him  into  the  kitchen  where  he  be 
longed.  But  nothing  happened,  and  he  began  to  feel 
a  realization  of  his  independence.  He  sat  and  thought 
for  a  long  time,  and  a  mighty  hunger  of  the  heart 
overwhelmed  him.  Before  he  knew  it,  a  tear  or  two 
had  fallen  on  the  immaculate  carpet;  and  then,  sud 
denly  recollecting  himself,  he  stood  up,  saying  to  him 
self — such  is  the  consistency  of  man : 


70  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"Sarah  was  a  good  soul  accordin'  to  her  lights;  but 
she's  dead,  and  I  must  confess  I'm  powerful  recon 
ciled.  Hepsey  Burke's  different.  I  wonder  if " 

But  he  put  he  thought  away  from  him  with  a  "get 
thee  behind  me"  abruptness,  and  putting  on  his  coat, 
went  out  to  water  the  stock. 


•II 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  MISS 


ana 


M!"  Mrs.  Burke  remarked  to  Maxwell 
abruptly   one   day   during  supper.      "We 
haven't  had  a    missionary  tea  since    you 
came,  and  I  think  it's  high  time  we  did." 

"What  sort  of  a  missionary  tea  do  you  mean?" 
the  parson  inquired. 

"Well,"  Mrs.  Burke  responded,  "our  missionary 
teas  combine  different  attractions.  We  get  together 
and  look  over  each  other's  clothes;  that's  the  first 
thing;  then  some  one  reads  a  paper  reportin'  how 


72  HEPSEY  BURKE 

things  is  goin'  in  Zanzibar,  or  what's  doin'  in  Tim- 
buctoo.  Then  we  look  over  the  old  clothes  sent  in 
for  missionaries,  mend  'em  up,  and  get  'em  ready  to 
send  off.  Then  we  have  tea  and  cake.  I've  had  my 
misgivin'  for  some  time  that  perhaps  we  cared  more 
for  the  tea  and  cake  than  we  did  for  the  heathen ;  but 
of  course  I  put  such  a  wicked  thought  aside.  If  you 
value  your  reputation  for  piety,  don't  you  ever  speak 
of  a  missionary  tea  here  except  in  a  whisper." 

"But  I  suppose  the  tea  helps  to  get  people  together 
and  be  more  sociable?" 

"Certainly.  The  next  best  thing  to  religion  is  a 
cup  of  strong  tea  and  a  frosted  cake,  to  make  us 
country  people  friends.  Both  combined  can't  be  beat. 
But  you  ought  to  see  the  things  that  have  been  sent 
in  this  last  week  for  the  missionary  box.  There's  a 
smoking  jacket,  two  pairs  of  golf-trousers,  several 
pairs  of  mismated  gloves,  a  wonderful  lot  of  un- 
darned  stockings,  bonnets  and  underclothes  to  burn, 
two  jackets  and  a  bathin'  suit.  I  wonder  what  peo 
ple  think  missionaries  are  doin'  most  of  the  time!" 

On  the  day  appointed  for  the  missionary  tea  the 
ladies  were  to  assemble  at  Thunder  Cliff  at  four 
o'clock;  and  when  Maxwell  came  home,  before  the 
advent  of  the  first  guest,  he  seemed  somewhat  de 
pressed;  and  Mrs.  Burke  inquired: 


THE  MISSIONARY  TEA  73 

"Been  makin'  calls  on  your  parishioners?" 

"Yes,  I  have  made  a  few  visits." 

"Now  you  must  look  more  cheerful,  or  somebody'll 
suspect  that  you  don't  always  find  parish  calls  the  joy 
of  your  life." 

"It's  so  difficult  to  find  subjects  of  conversation 
that  they  are  interested  in.  I  simply  couldn't  draw 
out  Mrs.  Snodgrass,  for  instance." 

"Well,  when  you've  lived  in  the  country  as  long  as 
I  have,  you'll  find  that  the  one  unfailin'  subject  of 
interest  is  symptoms — mostly  dyspepsy  and  liver  com 
plaint.  If  you  had  known  enough  to  have  started 
right  with  Elmira  Snodgrass,  she  would  have  thawed 
out  at  once.  Elmira  is  always  lookin'  for  trouble  as 
the  sparks  fly  upwards,  or  thereabouts.  She'd  crawl 
through  a  barbed  wire  fence  if  she  couldn't  get  at  it) 
any  other  way.  She  always  chews  a  pill  on  principle, 
and  then  she  calls  it  a  dispensation  of  Providence, 
and  wonders  why  she  was  ever  born  to  be  tormented." 

"In  that  case,"  laughed  Maxwell,  "I'd  better  get' 
some  medical  books  and  read  up  on  symptoms.  By 
the  by,  is  there  any  particular  program  for  this  mis 
sionary  meeting,  Mrs.  Burke?" 

"Yes,  Virginia  Bascom's  goin'  to  read  a  paper 
called  'The  Christian  Mother  as  a  Missionary  in  her 
own  Household.'  To  be  sure,  Ginty's  no  Christian 


74  HEPSEY  BURKE 

Mother,  or  any  other  kind  of  a  mother;  but  she's  as 
full  of  enthusiasm  as  a  shad  is  of  bones.  She'd  bring 
up  any  child  while  you  wait,  and  not  charge  a  cent. 
There  goes  the  bell,  so  please  excuse  me." 

The  guests  were  received  by  Mrs.  Burke.  Miss 
Bascom  entered  the  parlor  with  a  portentous  bundle 
of  manuscript  under  her  arm,  and  greeted  Donald 
with  a  radiant  smile.  Pulling  a  pansy  from  a  bunch 
in  her  dress,  she  adjusted  it  in  his  buttonhole  with  the 
happy  shyness  of  a  young  kitten  chasing  its  tail.  After 
the  others  had  assembled,  they  formed  a  circle  to  in 
spect  the  clothing  which  had  been  sent  in.  There 
was  a  general  buzz  of  conversation. 

As  they  were  busily  going  through  the  garments, 
Virginia  remarked,  "Are  all  these  things  to  go  to  the 
missionaries  at  Tien  Tsin?"  and  she  adjusted  her 
lorgnette  to  inspect  the  heap. 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Burke  responded  wearily,  "and  I  hope 
they'll  get  what  comfort  they  can  out  of  'em." 

"You  dont  seem  to  be  very  appreciative,  Mrs. 
Burke,"  Virginia  reproved. 

"Well,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  satisfied,"  Hepsey 
replied.  "But  it  does  seem  as  if  most  people  give  to 
the  Lord  what  they  can't  use  for  themselves  any 
longer — as  they  would  to  a  poor  relation  that's 
worthy,  but  not  to  be  coddled  by  too  much  charity." 


THE  MISSIONARY  TEA  75; 

"I  think  these  things  are  quite  nice  enough  for  the 
missionaries,"  Virginia  retorted.  "They  are  thankful 
for  anything." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  Mrs.  Burke  replied  calmly.  "Mis 
sionaries  and  their  families  have  no  business  to  have 
any  feelings  that  can't  be  satisfied  with  second-hand 
clothes,  and  no  end  of  good  advice  on  how  to  spend 
five  cents  freely  but  not  extravagantly." 

"But  don't  you  believe  in  sending  them  useful 
things?"  Virginia  asked  loftily. 

"So  I  do;  but  I'd  Hate  that  word  'useful'  if  I  was 
a  missionary's  wife." 

"Mght  I  inquire,"  asked  Miss  Bascom  meekly, 
"what  you  would  send?" 

"Certainly!  I'd  send  a  twenty-five-cent  scent  bag, 
made  of  silk  and  filled  with  patchouli-powder,"  said 
Hepsey,  squarely. 

"Well,"  Virginia  added  devoutly,  "satchet  bags 
may  be  well  enough  in  their  place ;  but  they  wont  feed 
missionaries,  or  clothe  them,  or  save  souls,  you  know, 
Mrs.  Burke." 

"Did  anybody  say  they  would?"  Mrs.  Burke  in 
quired.  "I  shouldn't  particularly  care  to  see  mission 
aries  clothed  in  sachet  bags  myself;  the  smell  might 
drive  the  heathen  to  desperation.  But  do  we  always 
limit  our  spending  money  to  necessary  clothes  and 


76  HEPSEY  BURKE 

food?  The  truth  is,  we  all  of  us  spend  anything  we 
like  as  long  as  it  goes  on  our  backs,  or  down  our 
throats;  but  the  moment  it  comes  to  supportin' 
missionaries  we  think  'em  worldly  and  graspin' 
if.  they  show  any  ambition  beyond  second-hand 
clothes." 

"Do  you  live  up  to  your  preachin',  Mrs.  Burke?" 
a  little  sallow-faced  woman  inquired  from  a  dark  cor 
ner  of  the  room. 

"Oh,  no;  it  hits  me  just  as  hard  as  anybody  else, 
as  Martin  Luther  said.  But  I've  got  a  proposition 
to  make :  if  you'll  take  these  things  you  brought,  back 
with  you,  and  wear  'em  for  a  week  just  as  they  are, 
and  play  you're  the  missionaries,  I'll  take  back  all 
I've  said." 

As,  however,  there  was  no  response  to  this  chal 
lenge,  the  box  was  packed,  and  the  cover  nailed  down. 

(It  is  perhaps  no  proper  part  of  this  story  to  add, 
that  its  opening  on  the  other  side  of  the  world  was 
attended  by  the  welcome  and  surprising  fragrance  of 
patchouli,  emanating  from  a  litle  silk  sachet  secreted 
among  the  more  workaday  gifts.) 

The  ladies  then  adjourned  to  the  front  piazza, 
where  the  supper  was  served. 

When  the  dishes  had  been  cleared  away,  the  guests 
adjusted  their  chairs  and  assumed  attitudes  of  ex- 


THE  MISSIONARY  TEA  77 

pectant  attention  while  Virginia  stood  up  and  shyly 
unrolled  her  manuscript,  with  a  placid,  self-conscious 
smile  on  her  countenance.  She  apologized  for  her 
youth  and  inexperience,  with  a  moving  glance  towards 
her  pastor,  and  then  got  down  to  business.  She  began 
with  the  original  and  striking  remark  that  it  was  the 
chief  glory  and  function  of  woman  to  be  a  home- 
maker.  She  continued  with  something  to  the  effect 
that  the  woman  who  forms  the  character  of  her  chil 
dren  in  the  sanctity  of  the  home-life  rules  the  destinies 
of  the  world.  Then  she  made  a  fetching  allusion  to 
the  "Mother  of  the  Gracchi,"  and  said  something 
about  jewels.  Nobody  knew  who  the  "Gracchi"  were, 
but  they  supposed  that  they  must  be  some  relatives 
of  Virginia's  who  lived  in  Boston. 

She  asserted  that  the  modern  methods  of  bringing 
up  children  were  all  wrong.  She  drew  a  striking  pic 
ture  of  the  ideal  home  in  which  children  always  stood 
modestly  and  reverently  by  their  parents'  chairs,  con 
sumed  with  anxiety  to  be  of  some  service  to  their  eld 
ers.  They  were  always  to  be  immaculately  neat  in 
their  attire,  and  gentle  in  their  ways.  The  use  of 
slang  was  quite  beneath  them. 

These  ideal  children  were  always  to  spend  their 
evenings  at  home  in  the  perusal  of  instructive  books, 
and  the  pursuit  of  useful  knowledge.  Then,  when 


78  HEPSEY  BURKE 

half-past  seven  arrived,  they  were  to  rise  spontane 
ously  and  promptly,  and  bid  their  parents  an  affec 
tionate  good-night,  and  retire  to  their  rooms,  where, 
having  said  their  prayers  and  recited  the  golden  text, 
they  were  to  get  into  bed. 

Portions  of  Virginia's  essay  were  quite  moving. 
Speaking  of  the  rewards  which  good  mothers  reap, 
in  the  virtues  and  graces  of  their  dutiful  offspring,  she 
said: 

"What  mother  does  not  feel  a  thrill  of  exquisite 
rapture  as  she  fondly  gazes  into  the  depths  of  her 
baby's  eyes  and  sees  there  the  budding  promise  of 
glorious  womanhood.  What  mother  does  not  watch 
the  development  of  her  little  son  with  wondering 
pride,  as  she  notes  his  manly,  simple  ways,  his  gentle 

reverence,  his  tender,  modest  behavior.  What  moth- 
er » 

Here  Virginia  came  to  an  abrupt  stop,  for  there 
was  a  terrible  racket  somewhere  overhead  on  the 
piazza  roof;  a  rope  was  suddenly  dropped  over  the 
edge  of  the  eaves,  and  almost  immediately  a  pair  of 
very  immodestly  bare  legs  were  lowered  into  view, 
followed  by  the  rest  of  Nickey  Burke's  person,  at 
tired  in  his  nightshirt.  It  was  the  work  of  a  moment 
for  the  nimble  boy  to  slide  down  the  rope  onto  the 
ground.  But,  as  he  landed  on  his  feet,  finding  himself 


THE  MISSIONARY  TEA  79; 

in  the  august  presence  of  the  missionary  circle,  he  re 
marked  "Gee  Whitaker  bee's  wax!"  and  prudently 
took  to  his  heels,  and  sped  around  the  house  as  if  he 
had  been  shot  out  of  a  gun. 

Several  segments  of  the  circle  giggled  violently. 
The  essayist,  though  very  red,  made  a  brave  effort  to 
ignore  the  highly  indecorous  interruption,  and  so  con 
tinued  with  trembling  tones : 

"What  more  beautiful  and  touching  thing  is  there, 
than  the  innocent,  unsullied  modesty  of  childhood? 
One  might  almost  say " 

But  she  never  said  it,  for  here  again  she  was  forced 
to  pause  while  another  pair  of  immodest  legs  ap 
peared  over  the  eaves,  much  fatter  and  shorter  than, 
the  preceding  pair.  These  belonged  to  Nickey's  boon- 
companion,  the  gentle  Oliver  Wendell  Jones.  The 
rest  of  O.  W.  J.  followed  in  due  time;  and,  quite 
ignorant  of  what  awaited  him,  he  began  his  wriggling 
descent.  Most  unfortunately  for  him,  the  hem  of 
his  nightshirt  caught  on  a  large  nail  in  the  eaves  of 
the  roof;  and  after  a  frantic,  fruitless,  and  fearful 
effort  to  disconnect  himself,  he  hung  suspended  in  the 
breeze  for  one  awful  moment,  like  a  painted  cherub 
on  a  Christmas  tree,  while  his  mother,  recognizing 
her  offspring,  rose  to  go  to  his  assistance. 

Then  there  was  a  frantic  yell,  a  terrible  ripping 


80  HEPSEY  BURKE 

sound,  and  Oliver  Wendell  was  seen  to  drop  to  the 
ground  clad  in  the  sleeves  and  the  front  breadth  of 
his  shirt,  while  the  entire  back  of  it,  from  the  collar 
down,  waved  triumphantly  aloft  from  the  eaves. 
Oliver  Wendell  Jones  picked  himself  up,  unhurt,  but 
much  frightened,  and  very  angry :  presenting  much  the 
aspect  of  a  punctured  tire.  Then  suddenly  discover 
ing  the  proximity  of  the  missionary  circle  and  missing 
the  rear  elevation  of  his  shirt  about  the  same  time, 
in  the  horror  and  mortification  of  the  moment,  he  lost 
his  head  entirely.  Notwithstanding  the  protests  of 
his  pursuing  mother,  without  waiting  for  his  clothes, 
he  fled,  "anywhere,  anywhere  out  of  the  world," 
bawling  with  wrath  and  chagrin. 

The  entire  circumference  of  the  missionary  circle 
now  burst  into  roars  of  laughter.  His  mother  quickly 
overtook  and  captured  Oliver,  tying  her  apron  around 
his  neck  as  a  concession  to  the  popular  prejudice 
against  "the  altogether."  The  gravity  of  the  mis 
sionary  circle  was  so  thoroughly  demoralized  that  it 
was  impossible  to  restore  order;  and  Miss  Bascom, 
in  the  excess  of  her  mortification,  stuffed  the  rest  of 
her  manuscript,  its  eloquent  peroration  undelivered, 
into  her  bag. 

When  the  last  guest  had  departed,  Mrs.  Burke 
proceeded  to  hunt  up  Nickey,  who  was  dressed  and 


'NICHOLAS   BURKE,   WHAT  IN   THE   NAME  or  CONSCIENCE   DOES  ALL 

THIS    IDIOTIC    PERFORMANCE     MEAN,    I'D    LIKE    TO     KNOW?" 


THE  MISSIONARY  TEA  81 

sitting  on  the  top  of  the  corn-crib  whittling  a  stick. 
His  mother  began : 

"Nicholas  Burke,  what  in  the  name  of  conscience 
does  all  this  idiotic  performance  mean,  I'd  like  to 
know?" 

Nickey  closed  his  knife.  Gazing  serenely  down  at 
his  mother,  he  replied: 

"How'd  I  know  the  blamed  missionary  push  was 
goin'  to  meet  on  the  front  porch,  I'd  like  to  know? 
Me  and  Oliver  Wendell  was  just  playin'  the  house 
was  on  fire.  We'd  gone  to  bed  in  the  front  room,  and 
then  I  told  Ollie  the  fire  was  breakin'  out  all  around 
us,  and  the  sparks  was  flyin',  and  the  stairs  was 
burned  away,  and  there  was  no  way  of  'scapin'  but 
to  slide  down  the  rope  over  the  roof.  I  aint  to  blame 
for  his  night-shirt  bein'  caught  on  a  nail,  and  bein' 
ripped  off  him.  Maybe  the  ladies  was  awful  shocked ; 
but  they  laughed  fit  to  split  their  sides  just  the  same. 
Mr.  Maxwell  laughed  louder  than  'em  all." 

Hepsey  retired  hastily,  lest  her  face  should  relax 
its  well-assumed  severity. 

Maxwell,  in  the  meantime,  felt  it  a  part  of  his  duty 
to  console  and  soothe  the  ruffled  feelings  of  his  zeal 
ous  and  fluent  parishioner,  and  to  Virginia's  pride  his 
offer  of  escort  to  Willow  Bluff  was  ample  reparation 
for  the  untoward  interruption  of  her  oratory.  She 


82  HEPSEY  BURKE 

delivered  into  his  hands,  with  sensitive  upward  glance, 
the  receptacle  containing  her  manuscript,  and  set  a 
brisk  pace,  at  which  she  insured  the  passing  of  the 
other  guests  along  the  road,  making  visible  her  tri 
umph  over  circumstance  and  at  the  same  time  obviat 
ing  untimely  intrusion  of  a  tete-a-tete  conversation. 

"You  must  have  given  a  great  deal  of  time  and 
study  to  your  subject,"  remarked  Maxwell  politely. 

"It  is  very  near  to  my  heart,"  responded  Virginia, 
in  welling  tones.  "Home-life  is,  to  me,  almost  a  re 
ligion.  Do  you  not  feel,  with  me,  that  it  is  the  most 
valuable  of  human  qualities,  Mr.  Maxwell?" 

"I  do  indeed,  and  one  of  the  most  difficult  to  reduce 
to  a  science," — she  glanced  up  at  him  apprehensively, 
whereupon,  lest  he  seemed  to  have  erred  in  fact, 
he  added, — "as  you  made  us  realize  in  your 
paper." 

"It  is  so  nice  to  have  your  appreciation,"  she  gur 
gled.  "Often  I  feel  it  almost  futile  to  try  to  influ 
ence  our  cold  parish  audiences;  their  attitude  is  so 
stolid,  so  unimaginative.  As  you  must  have  realized, 
in  the  pulpit,  they  are  so  hard  to  lead  into  untrodden 
paths.  Let  us  take  the  way  home  by  the  lane,"  she 
added  coyly,  leading  off  the  road  down  a  sheltered 
by-way. 

The  lane  was  rough,  and  the  lady,  tightly  and  light- 


THE  MISSIONARY  TEA  83 

ly  shod,  stumbled  neatly  and  grasped  her  escort's  arm 
for  support — and  retained  it  for  comfort. 

"What  horizons  your  sermons  have  spread  before 
us — and,  yet," — she  hesitated, — "I  often  wonder,  as 
my  eyes  wander  over  the  congregation,  how  many  be 
sides  myself,  really  hear  your  message,  really  see 
what  you  see." 

Her  hand  trembled  on  his  arm,  and  Maxwell  was 
a  little  at  a  loss,  though  anxious  not  to  seem  unre 
sponsive  to  Virginia's  enthusiasm  for  spiritual  vision. 

"I  feel  that  my  first  attention  has  to  be  given  to 
the  simpler  problems,  here  in  Durford,"  he  replied. 
"But  I  am  glad  if  I  haven't  been  dull,  in  the  process." 

"Dull?  No  indeed — how  can  you  say  that!  To 
my  life — you  will  understand?"  (she  glanced  up  with 
tremulous  flutter  of  eyelids)  " — you  have  brought  so 
much  helpfulness  and — and  warmth."  She  sighed 
eloquently. 

Maxwell  was  no  egotist,  and  was  always  prone  to 
see  only  an  impersonal  significance  in  parish  compli 
ments.  A  more  self-conscious  subject  for  confidences 
would  have  replied  less  openly. 

"I  am  glad — very  glad.  But  you  must  not  think 
that  the  help  has  been  one-sided.  You  have  seconded 
my  efforts  so  energetically — indeed  I  doo't  know 
what  I  could  have  accomplished  without  such  whole- 


84  HEPSEY  BURKE 

hearted  help  as  you  and  Mrs.  Burke  and  others  have 
given." 

To  the  optimistic  Virginia  the  division  of  the  loaves 
and  fishes  of  hi%  personal  gratitude  was  scarcely  heed 
ed.  She  cherished  her  own  portion,  and  soon  magni 
fied  it  to  a  basketful — and  soon,  again,  to  a  monopoly 
of  the  entire  supply.  As  he  gave  her  his  hand  at  the 
door  of  Willow  Bluff,  she  was  in  fit  state  to  invest 
that  common  act  of  friendliness  with  symbolic  signifi 
cance  of  a  rosy  future. 


•I' 


CHAPTER  YE 


\m 

MRS. BURKE  seemed  incapable  of  sitting  still, 
with  folded  hands,  for  any  length  of  time; 
and  when  the  stress  of  her  attention  to  house 
hold  work,  and  her  devotion  to  neighborly  good  deeds 
relaxed,  she  turned  to  knitting  wash-rags  as  a  sports 
man  turns  to  his  gun,  or  a  toper  to  his  cups.     She 
seemed  to  find  more  stimulus  for  thought  and  more 
helpful  diversion  in  the  production  of  one  wash-rag 
than  most  persons  find  in  a  trip  abroad. 

One  day,  not  very  long  after  the  eventful  mission- 
.85 


86  HEPSEY  BURKE 

ary  tea,  she  was  sitting  in  her  garden,  and  knitting 
more  rapidly  than  usual,  as  she  said  to  Maxwell : 

"What's  been  the  matter  with  you  these  last  few 
weeks?  You've  been  lookin'  altogether  too  sober, 
and  you  don't  eat  nothin'  to  speak  of.  It  must  be 
either  liver,  or  conscience,  or  heart." 

Secretly,  she  strongly  suspected  a  cardiac  affection, 
of  the  romantic  variety.  She  intended  to  investigate. 

Donald  laughed  as  he  replied: 

"Perhaps  it's  all  three  together;  but  I'm  all  right. 
There's  nothing  the  matter  with  me.  Every  man  has 
his  blue  days,  you  know." 

"Yes,  but  the  last  month  you've  had  too  many;  and 
there  must  be  some  reason  for  it.  There's  nothin'  so 
refreshin'  as  gettin'  away  from  your  best  friends,  once 
in  a  while.  I  guess  you  need  a  change — pinin'  for 
the  city,  maybe.  Sakes  alive !  I  can't  see  how  folks 
can  live  that  way — all  crowded  up  together,  like  a  lot 
of  prisons." 

"You  don't  care  to  visit  in  the  city,  then?" 

"Not  on  your  life!" 

"But  a  change  is  good  for  everyone.  Don't  you 
ever  get  away  from  Durford  for  a  few  weeks?" 

"Not  very  often.  What  with  decidin'  where  to  go, 
and  fussin'  to  get  ready,  and  shuttin'  up  the  house, 
it's  more  trouble  than  its  worth.  Then  there's  so 


HEPSEY  GOES  A-FISHING  87 

many   things    to    'tend   to    when   you    get   home." 

"But  don't  you  ever  visit  relatives?" 

"Not  on  your  life,  unless  I'm  subpoena-ed  by  the 
coroner:  though  of  course  we  do  get  together  to  cele 
brate  a  family  funeral  or  a  wedding  now  and  then. 
Visitin'  is  no  joke,  I  tell  you.  No  sir,  I'm  old  enough 
to  know  when  I'm  well  off,  and  home's  the  best  place 
for  me.  I  want  my  own  table,  and  my  own  bed  when 
it  comes  night."  She  paused,  and  then  remarked  med 
itatively  : 

"I  went  down  to  visit  in  New  York  once." 

"Didn't  you  enjoy  your  visit?"  Maxwell  inquired. 
"New  York's  my  home-city." 

"Can't  say  I  did,  awful  much.  You  see,  I  was 
visitin'  Sally  Ramsdale — Sally  Greenway  that  was. 
They  were  livin'  in  an  apartment,  ninth  floor  up.  In 
the  first  place,  I  didn't  like  goin'  up  stairs  in  the  ele 
vator.  I  was  so  scared,  I  felt  as  if  the  end  had  come, 
and  I  was  bein'  jerked  to  my  reward  in  an  iron  bird 
cage  with  a  small  kid  dressed  in  brass  buttons.  When 
I  got  into  the  hall  it  was  about  two  feet  wide  and 
darker  than  Pharaoh's  conscience.  It  had  a  string  of 
cells  along  the  side,  and  one  opened  into  a  chimney, 
and  the  rest  into  nothin'  in  particular.  The  middle 
cell  was  a  dinin'  room  where  we  ate  when  we  could 
find  the  way  to  our  mouths.  Near  as  I  can  recollect, 


88  HEPSEY  BURKE 

you  got  into  the  parlor  through  the  pantry,  back  of 
the  servant's  room,  by  jumpin'  over  five  trunks.  You 
ought  to  have  seen  my  room.  It  looked  just  like  a 
parlor  when  you  first  went  in.  There  was  somethin' 
lookin'  like  a  cross  between  an  upright  piano  and 
writin'  desk.  Sally  gave  it  a  twist,  and  it  tumbled 
out  into  a  folding  bed.  The  first  night,  I  laid  awake 
with  my  eyes  on  the  foot  of  that  bed  expectin'  it  to 
rise  and  stand  me  on  my  head;  but  it  didn't.  You 
took  the  book  of  poems  off  the  center  table,  gave  it  a 
flop,  and  it  was  a  washstand.  Everything  seemed  to 
shut  up  into  something  else  it  hadn't  ought  to.  It 
was  a  'now  you  see  it,  and  now  you  don't  see  it,'  kind 
of  a  room;  and  I  seemed  to  be  foldin'  and  unfoldin' 
most  of  the  time.  Then  the  ceilin'  was  so  low  that 
you  could  hardly  get  the  cover  off  the  soap  dish.  I 
felt  all  the  while  as  if  I  should  smother.  My!  but 
I  was  glad  to  get  home  and  get  a  breath  of  real  air." 

''Yes,"  Maxwell  replied,  "people  live  more  nat 
ural  and  healthful  lives  in  the  country.  The  advan 
tages  of  the  city  aren't  an  unmixed  blessing." 

"That's  true  enough.  That's  no  way  to  live.  Just 
think  of  havin'  no  yard  but  a  window  box  and  a  fire 
escape!  I'd  smother! 

"We  folks  out  here  in  the  country  aint  enjoyia' 
a  lot  of  the  refinements  of  city  life;  anyhow  we  get 


HEPSEY  GOES  A-FISHING  89 

along,  and  the  funny  part  about  it  is, — it  aint  hard 
to  do,  either.  In  the  first  place  we  aint  so  particular, 
which  helps  a  lot,  and  besides,  as  Jonathan  Jackson 
used  to  say, — there's  compensations.  I  had  one  look 
at  Fifth  Avenue  and  I'm  not  sayin'  it  wasn't  all  I 
had  heard  it  was;  but  if  I  had  to  look  at  it  three 
hundred  and  sixty-five  days  a  year  I  wouldn't  trade  it 
for  this. 

"Why,  some  days  it  rains  up  here,  but  I  can  sit  at 
my  window  and  look  down  the  valley,  to  where  the 
creek  runs  through,  and  'way  up  into  the  timber,  and 
the  sight  of  all  those  green  things,  livin'  and  noddin' 
in  the  rain  is  a  long  ways  from  being  disheartenin', — 
and  when  the  sun  shines  I  can  sit  out  here,  in  my 
garden,  with  my  flowers,  and  watch  the  boys  playin' 
down  in  the  meadow,  Bascom's  Holsteins  grazin' 
over  there  on  the  hill,  and  the  air  full  of  the  perfume 
of  growin'  things, — they  aint  got  anything  like  that, 
in  New  York." 

For  a  time  Mrs.  Burke  relapsed  into  silence,  while 
Maxwell  smoked  his  briar  pipe  as  he  lay  on  the  grass 
near  by.  She  realized  that  the  parson  had  cleverly 
side-tracked  her  original  subject  of  conversation,  and 
as  she  glanced  down  at  him  she  shook  her  head  with 
droll  deprecation  of  his  guile. 

When  she  first  accused  him  of  the  blues,  it  was 


90  HEPSEY  BURKE 

true  that  Maxwell's  look  had  expressed  glum  depres 
sion.  Now,  he  was  smiling,  and,  balked  of  her  prey, 
Mrs.  Burke  knitted  briskly,  contemplating  other 
means  drawing  him  from  his  covert.  Her  strategy 
had  been  too  subtle:  she  would  try  a  frontal  at 
tack. 

"Ever  think  of  gettin'  married,  Mr.  Maxwell?" 
she  inquired  abruptly. 

For  an  instant  Maxwell  colored;  but  he  blew  two 
or  three  rings  of  smoke  in  the  air,  and  then  replied 
carelessly,  as  he  plucked  at  the  grass  by  his  side: 

"Oh,  yes :  every  fellow  of  my  age  has  fancied  him 
self  in  love  some  time  or  other,  I  suppose." 

"Yes,  it's  like  measles,  or  whoopin'-cough;  every 
man  has  to  have  it  sometime;  but  you  haven't  an 
swered  my  question." 

"Well,  suppose  I  was  in  love;  a  man  must  be  pretty 
conceited  to  imagine  that  he  could  make  up  to  a  girl 
for  the  sacrifice  of  bringing  her  to  live  in  a  place  like 
Durford.  That  sounds  horribly  rude  to  Durford, 
but  you  wont  misunderstand  me." 

"No ;  I  know  exactly  how  you  feel ;  but  the  average 
girl  is  just  dyin'  to  make  a  great  sacrifice  for  some 
good-lookin'  young  fellow,  all  the  same." 

"Ah  yes;  the  average  girl;  but " 

Maxwell's  voice  trailed  off  into  silence,  while  he 


HEPSEY  GOES  A-FISHING  91 

affected  to  gaze  stonily  into  the  blue  deeps  of  the  sky 
overhead. 

Hepsey  had  thought  herself  a  pretty  clever  fisher 
man,  in  her  day;  evidently,  she  decided,  this  particu 
lar  fish  was  not  going  to  be  easy  to  land. 

"Don't  you  think  a  clergyman  is  better  off  mar 
ried?"  she  asked,  presently. 

Donald  knocked  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe  and  put 
it  in  his  pocket,  clasped  his  hands  across  his  knees, 
and  smiled  thoughtfully  for  a  moment.  There  was 
a  light  in  his  eyes  which  was  good  to  see,  and  a  slight 
trembling  of  his  lips  before  he  ventured  to  speak. 
Then  he  sighed  heavily. 

"Yes,  I  do,  on  many  accounts.  But  I  think  that 
any  parson  in  a  place  like  this  ought  to  know  and  face 
all  the  difficulties  of  the  situation  before  he  comes  to 
a  definite  decision  and  marries.  Isn't  that  your  own 
view?  You've  had  experience  of  married  parsons 
here:  what  do  you  think?" 

"Well,  you  see  the  matter  is  just  like  this :  Every 
parish  wants  an  unmarried  parson;  the  vestry  'cause 
he's  cheap,  every  unmarried  woman  'cause  he  may  be 
a  possible  suitor;  and  it's  easier  to  run  him  than  it 
is  a  married  man.  He  may  be  decent,  well-bred  and 
educated.  And  he  comes  to  a  parcel  of  ignoramuses 
who  think  they  know  ten  times  as  much  as  he  does. 


92  HEPSEY  BURKE 

If  he  can't  earn  enough  to  marry  on,  and  has  the  good 
sense  to  keep  out  of  matrimony,  the  people  talk 
about  his  bein'  a  selfish  old  bachelor  who  neglects  his 
duty  to  society.  He  can't  afford  to  run  a  tumble 
down  rectory  like  ours.  If  in  the  face  of  all  this 
he  marries,  he  has  to  scrimp  and  stint  until  it  is  a 
question  of  buyin'  one  egg  or  two,  and  lettin'  his  wife 
worry  and  work  until  she's  fit  for  a  lunatic  asylum. 
No  business  corporation,  not  even  a  milk-peddlin' 
trust,  would  treat  its  men  so  or  expect  good  work 
from  'em.  Then  the  average  layman  seldom  thinks 
how  he  can  help  the  parson.  His  one  idea  is  to  be  a 
kicker  as  long  as  he  can  think  of  anything  to  kick 
about.  The  only  man  in  this  parish  who  never  kicks 
is  paralyzed  in  both  legs.  Yes  sir;  the  parson  of  the 
country  parish  is  the  parish  goat,  as  the  sayin'  is." 

Mrs.  Burke  ceased  her  tirade,  and  after  a  while 
Maxwell  remarked  quietly: 

"Mrs.  Burke,  I'm  afraid  you  are  a  pessimist." 
"I'm  no  such  thing,"  she  retorted  hotly.  "A  pessi 
mist's  a  man  that  sees  nothin'  but  the  bad,  and  says 
there's  no  help  for  it  and  wont  raise  a  hand :  he's  a 
proper  sour-belly.  An  optimist's  a  man  that  sees 
nothin'  but  the  good,  and  says  everything's  all  right; 
let's  have  a  good  time.  Poor  fool!  The  practical 
man — anyway,  the  practical  woman — sees  both  the 


HEPSEY  GOES  A-FISHING  93 

bad  and  the  good,  and  says  we  can  make  things  a 
whole  lot  better  if  we  try;  let's  take  off  our  coats  and 
hustle  to  beat  the  cars,  and  see  what  happens.  The 
real  pessimists  are  your  Bascoms,  and  that  kind: 
and  I  guess  I  pity  him  more  than  blame  him :  he  seems 
as  lonesome  as  a  tooth-pick  in  a  cider-barrel." 

"But  I  thought  that  Bascom  was  a  wealthy  man. 
He  ought  to  be  able  to  help  out,  and  raise  money 
enough  so  that  the  town  could  keep  a  parson  and  his 
wife  comfortably." 

"Sure  thing!  But  the  church  isn't  supported  by 
tight-fisted  wealthy  people.  It's  the  hard-workin' 
middle  class  who  are  willin'  to  turn  in  and  spend  their 
last  cent  for  the  church.  And  don't  you  get  me  start 
ed  on  Bascom  as  you  value  your  life.  Maybe  I'll 
swear  a  blue  streak  before  I  get  through:  not  but 
what  I  suppose  that  even  Bascom  has  his  good  points 
— like  a  porcupine.  But  a  little  emery  paper  on  Bas- 
com's  good  points  wouldn't  hurt  'em  very  much. 
They're  awful  rusty." 

"Oh  well !  Money  isn't  all  there  is  in  life,"  soothed 
Maxwell,  smiling. 

"No,  not  quite;  but  it's  a  mighty  good  thing  to 
have  in  the  house.  You'd  think  so  if  you  had  to  wear 
the  same  hat  three  summers.  I've  got  to  that  time 
in  my  life  where  I  can  get  along  very  well  without 


94  HEPSEY  BURKE 

most  of  the  necessities;  but  I  must  have  a  few  lux 
uries  to  keep  me  goinV 

"Then  you  think  that  a  clergyman  ought  not  to 
marry  and  bring  his  wife  to  a  place  like  Dur- 
ford?" 

"I  didn't  say  anything  of  the  sort.  If  you  was  to 
get  married  I'd  see  you  through,  if  it  broke  my  neck 
or  Bascom's." 

"Do  you  know,  you  seem  to  me  a  bit  illogical?"  re 
marked  Maxwell  mildly. 

"Don't  talk  to  me  about  logic !  The  strongest  argu 
ment  is  often  the  biggest  lie.  There  are  times  in  your 
life  when  you  have  to  take  your  fate  in  both  hands 
and  shut  your  eyes,  and  jump  in  the  dark.  Maybe 
you'll  land  on  your  feet,  and  maybe  you — wont.  But 
you  have  got  to  jump  just  the  same.  That's  matri 
mony — common  sense,  idiocy,  or  whatever  you 
choose  to  call  it.  ...  I  never  could  tell  which.  It's 
the  only  thing  to  do;  and  any  man  with  a  backbone 
and  a  fist  wont  hesitate  very  long.  If  you  marry,  I'll 
see  you  through ;  though  of  course  you  wont  stay  here 
long,  anyhow." 

"You're  awfully  kind,  Mrs.  Burke,"  Maxwell  re 
plied,  "and  I  sha'n't  forget  your  promise — when  the 
time  comes  for  me  to  take  the  momentous  step.  But 
I  think  it  would  be  the  wisest  thing  for  me  to  keep 


HEPSEY  GOES  A-FISHING  95 

my  heart  free  for  a  while;  or  at  any  rate,  not  to  get 
married." 

Mrs.  Burke  looked  down  at  her  rector,  and  smiled 
broadly  at  his  clever  evasion  of  the  bait  she  had  dan 
gled  before  him  so  persistently. 

"Well,  do  as  you  like;  but  that  reminds  me  that 
when  next  you  go  to  town  you'll  need  to  get  a  new 
glass  for  that  miniature  of  your  sister.  You  must 
have  dozed  off  with  it  in  your  hands  last  night  and 
dropped  it.  I  found  it  this  morning  on  the  floor 
alongside  of  your  chair,  with  the  glass  broken." 

She  rose  triumphantly,  as  she  knitted  the  last  stitch 
of  the  wash-rag.  "Excuse  me — I  must  go  and  peel 
the  potatoes  for  dinner." 

"I'd  offer  to  contribute  to  the  menu,  by  catching 
some  fish  for  you ;  but  I  don't  think  it's  a  very  good 
day  for  fishing,  is  it,  Mrs.  Burke?"  asked  Maxwell 
innocently. 


AS  we  have  seen,  when  Maxwell  began  his  work 
in  Durford,  he  was  full  of  the  enthusiasm  of 
youth  and  inexperience.     He  was,  however, 
heartily  supported  and  encouraged  in  his  efforts  by 
all  but  Sylvester  Bascom.    Without  being  actively  and 
openly  hostile,  the  Senior  Warden,  under  the  guise  of 
superior  wisdom  and  a  judicial  regard  for  expediency, 
managed  to  thwart  many  of  his  projects.    After  each 
interview  with  Bascom,  Maxwell  felt  that  every  bit 
of  life  and  heart  had  been  pumped  out  of  him,  and 

96 


AN  ICEBOX  FOR  CHERUBIM         97 

that  he  was  very  young,  and  very  foolish  to  attempt 
to  make  any  change  in  "the  good  old  ways"  of  the 
parish,  which  for  so  many  years  had  stunted  its 
growth  and  had  acquired  the  immobility  of  the  laws 
of  the  Medes  and  Persians. 

But  there  was  one  parishioner  who  was  ever  ready 
to  suggest  new  ventures  to  "elevate"  the  people,  and. 
to  play  the  part  of  intimate  friend  and  adviser  to  her 
good-looking  rector,  and  that  was  Virginia  Bascorru 
For  some  unknown  reason  "the  people"  did  not  seem 
to  be  acutely  anxious  thus  to  be  elevated;  and  most 
of  them  seemed  to  regard  Virginia  as  a  harmless  idiot 
with  good  intentions,  but  with  positive  genius  for 
meddling  in  other  people's  affairs.  Being  the  only 
daughter  of  the  Senior  Warden,  and  the  leading  lady 
from  a  social  standpoint,  she  considered  that  she  had 
a  roving  commission  to  set  people  right  at  a  moment's 
notice;  and  there  were  comparatively  few  people  in 
Durford  on  whom  she  had  not  experimented  in  one 
way  or  another.  She  organized  a  Browning  club  to 
keep  the  factory  girls  out  of  the  streets  evenings,  a 
mothers'  meeting,  an  ethical  culture  society,  and  a 
craftman's  club,  and,  as  she  was  made  president  of 
each,  her  time  was  quite  well  filled. 

And  now  in  her  fertile  brain  dawned  a  brilliant  idea* 
which  she  proceeded  to  propound  to  the  rector.  Max- 


98  HEPSEY  BURKE 

well  was  non-committal,  for  he  felt  the  matter  was 
one  for  feminine  judgment.  Then  she  decided  to 
consult  Mrs.  Burke — because,  while  Hepsey  was  "not 
in  society,"  she  was  recognized  as  the  dominant  per 
sonality  among  the  women  of  the  village,  and  no  par 
ish  enterprise  amounted  to  much  unless  she  approved 
of  it,  and  was  gracious  enough  to  assist.  As  Vir 
ginia  told  Maxwell,  "Mrs.  Burke  has  a  talent  of 
persuasiveness,"  and  so  was  "useful  in  any  emer 
gency."  If  Mrs.  Burke's  sympathies  could  be  en 
listed  on  behalf  of  the  new  scheme  it  would  be  bound 
to  succeed. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mrs.  Burke  had  heard  rumors 
of  this  new  project  of  Virginia's.  It  always  went 
against  the  grain  with  Hepsey  to  say:  "Don't  do  it." 
She  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  teaching  of  experi 
ence:  "Experience  does  it,"  was  her  translation  of 
the  classic  adage. 

And  so  one  morning  found  Virginia  sitting  oppo 
site  Mrs.  Burke  in  the  kitchen  at  Thunder  Cliff,  knit 
ting  her  brows  and  poking  the  toe  of  her  boot  with 
the  end  of  her  parasol  in  an  absent-minded  way.  This 
was  symptomatic. 

"Anything  on  your  mind,  Virginia?  What's  up 
now?"  Mrs.  Burke  began. 

For  a  moment  Virginia  hesitated,  and  then  replied: 


AN  ICEBOX  FOR  CHERUBIM         99 

"I  am  thinking  of  establishing  a  day-nursery  to 
care  for  the  babies  of  working  women,  Mrs. 
Burke." 

Mrs.  Burke,  with  hands  on  her  hips,  gazed  intent 
ly  at  her  visitor,  pushed  up  her  under  lip,  scowled, 
and  then  observed  thoughtfully: 

"I  wonder  some  one  hasn't  thought  of  that  before. 
Who's  to  take  care  of  the  babies?" 

"Mary  Quinn  and  I,  with  the  assistance  of  others, 
of  course." 

"Are  you  sure  that  you  know  which  is  the  business 
end  of  a  nursing-bottle?  Could  you  put  a  safety-pin 
where  it  would  do  the  most  good?  Could  you  wash  a 
baby  without  drownin'  it?" 

"Of  course  I  have  not  had  much  experience,"  Vir 
ginia  replied  in  a  dignified  and  lofty  way,  "but  Mary 
Quinn  has,  and  she  could  teach  me." 

"You're  thinkin',  I  suppose,  that  a  day-nursery 
would  fill  a  long-felt  want,  or  somethin'  like  that. 
Who's  goin'  to  pay  the  bills?" 

"Oh,  there  ought  to  be  enough  progressive,  philan 
thropic  people  in  Durford  to  subscribe  the  necessary 
funds,  you  know.  It  is  to  be  an  auxiliary  to  the  parish 
work." 

"Hm!     What  does  Mr.  Maxwell  say?" 

"Well,  he  said  that  he  supposed  that  babies  were 


ioo  HEPSEY  BURKE 

good  things  in  their  way;  but  he  hadn't  seen  many 
in  the  village,  and  he  didn't  quite  realize  what  help 
a  day-nursery  would  be  to  the  working  women." 

"That  doesn't  sound  mighty  enthusiastic.  Maybe 
we  might  get  the  money;  but  who's  to  subscribe  the 
babies?" 

"Why,  the  working  women,  of  course." 

"They  can't  subscribe  'em  if  they  haven't  got  'em. 
There  are  mighty  few  kids  in  this  town;  and  if  you 
really  want  my  candid  opinion,  I  don't  think  Durford 
needs  a  day-nursery  any  more  than  it  needs  an  ice 
box  for  cherubim.  But  then  of  course  that  doesn't 
matter  much.  When  you  goin'  to  begin  ?" 

"Next  Monday.  We  have  rented  the  store  where 
Elkin's  grocery  used  to  be,  and  we  are  going  to  fit 
it  up  with  cribs,  and  all  the  most  up-to-date  conven 
iences  for  a  sanitary  day-nursery." 

"Hm!  Well,  I'll  do  all  I  can  to  help  you,  of 
course.  I  suppose  you'll  find  babies  pushin'  all  over 
the  sidewalk  Monday  mornin',  comin'  early  to  avoid 
the  rush.  Better  get  down  as  early  as  possible,  Vir 
ginia." 

Virginia  departed. 

After  the  furnishing  of  the  incipient  nursery  had 
been  completed,  and  each  little  crib  had  a  new  un- 
Jbreakable  doll  whose  cheeks  were  decorated  with 


AN  ICEBOX  FOR  CHERUBIM       101 

unsuckable  paint,  Virginia  and  Mary  Quinn — inval 
uable  in  undertaking  the  spadework  of  all  Virginia's 
parish  exploits — gave  an  afternoon  tea  to  which  all 
the  subscribers  and  their  friends  were  invited-  But 
when  everything  was  in  readiness  for  patronage,  what 
few  working  women  there  were  in  Durford,  possessed 
of  the  right  kind  of  babies,  seemed  strangely  reluct 
ant  to  trust  their  youthful  offspring  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  Virginia  Bascom  and  Mary  Quinn. 

Consequently,  the  philanthropic  movement,  started 
under  such  favorable  patronage,  soon  reached  a  criti 
cal  stage  in  its  career,  and  Mrs.  Burke  was  called  in 
to  contribute  some  practical  suggestions.  She  re 
sponded  to  the  summons  with  all  due  promptness, 
and  when  she  arrived  at  the  nursery,  she  smilingly 
remarked: 

"Hm !  But  where  are  the  babies?  I  thought  they 
would  be  swarming  all  over  the  place  like  tadpoles 
in  a  pooh" 

"Well,  you  see,"  Virginia  began,  her  voice  quiver 
ing  with  disappointment,  "Mary  Quinn  and  I  have 
been  sitting  here  four  mortal  days,  and  not  a  single 
infant  has  appeared  on  the  scene.  I  must  say  that 
the  working  women  of  Durford  seem  strangely  unap- 
preciative  of  our  efforts  to  help  them." 

"Well,"  Mrs.  Burke  responded,  "I  suppose  day-. 


102  HEPSEY  BURKE 

nurseries  without  babies  are  as  incomplete  as  an  in 
cubator  without  eggs.  But  after  all,  it  hardly  seems 
worth  while  to  go  out  and  snatch  nursing  infants 
from  their  mother's  breasts  just  to  fill  a  long-felt 
want,  does  it?  Besides,  you  might  get  yourself  into 
trouble." 

"I  didn't  ask  you  to  come  and  make  fun  of  me," 
Virginia  replied  touchily.  "I  wanted  you  to  make 
some  suggestions  to  help  us  out.  If  we  don't  get  any 
babies,  we  might  just  as  well  close  our  doors  at  once. 
I  should  be  awfully  mortified  to  have  the  whole  thing 
a  failure,  after  all  we  have  done,  and  all  the  adver 
tising  we  have  had." 

Mrs.  Burke  sat  down  and  assumed  a  very  judicial 
expression. 

"Well,  Ginty  dear,  I'm  awful  sorry  for  you;  I 
don't  doubt  you  done  the  best  you  could.  It'd  be 
unreasonable  to  expect  you  to  collect  babies  like 
mushrooms  in  a  single  night.  All  true  reformers  are 
bound  to  strike  snags,  and  to  suffer  because  they  aint 
appreciated  in  their  own  day  and  generation.  It's 
only  after  we  are  gone  and  others  take  our  places  that 
the  things  we  do  are  appreciated.  You'll  have  to 
resign  yourself  to  fate,  Virginia,  and  wait  for  what 
the  newspapers  call  'the  vindicatin'  verdict  of  pros 
perity.'  Think  of  all  the  people  that  tried  to  do 


AN  ICEBOX  FOR  CHERUBIM       103 

things  and  didn't  do  'em.  Now  there's  the  Christian 
martyrs " 

For  some  reason  Virginia  seemed  to  have  a  vague 
suspicion  that  Hepsey  was  still  making  fun  of  her; 
and  being  considerably  nettled,  she  interjected  tartly: 

"I'm  not  working  for  the  verdict  of  posterity,  and 
I  don't  care  a  flip  for  the  Christian  martyrs.  I'm 
trying  to  conduct  a  day-nursery,  here  and  now;  we 
have  the  beds,  and  the  equipment,  and  some  money, 
and " 

"But  you  haven't  got  the  babies,  Virginia !" 

"Precisely,  Mrs.  Burke.  It's  simply  a  question  of 
babies,  now  or  never.  Babies  we  must  have  or  close 
our  doors.  I  must  confess  that  I  am  greatly  pained 
at  the  lack  of  interest  of  the  community  in  our  humble 
efforts  to  serve  them." 

For  some  time  Hepsey  sat  in  silence;  then  she 
smiled  as  if  a  bright  idea  occurred  to  her. 

"Why  not  borrow  a  few  babies  from  the  mothers  in 
town,  Virginia?  You  see,  you  might  offer  to  pay  a 
small  rental  by  the  hour,  or  take  out  a  lease  which 
could  be  renewed  when  it  expired.  What  is  lacking 
is  public  confidence  in  your  enterprise.  If  you  and 
Miss  Quinn  could  be  seen  in  the  nursery  windows 
dandlin'  a  baby  on  each  arm,  and  singin'  lullabies  to 
'em  for  a  few  days,  it'd  attract  attention,  inspire  faith 


io4  HEPSEY  BURKE 

in  the  timid,  and  public  confidence  would  be  restored. 
The  tide  of  babies  'd  turn  your  way  after  a  while, 
and  the  nursery  would  prove  a  howlin'  success." 

Virginia  considered  the  suggestion  and,  after  deep 
thought,  remarked: 

"What  do  you  think  we  ought  to  pay  for  the  loan 
of  a  baby  per  hour,  Mrs.  Burke?" 

"Well,  of  course  I  haven't  had  much  experience 
rentin'  babies,  as  I  have  been  busy  payin'  taxes  and 
insurance  on  my  own  for  some  years;  then  you  see 
rents  have  gone  up  like  everything  lately.  But  I 
should  think  that  ten  cents  an  afternoon  ought  to  be 
sufficient.  I  think  I  might  be  able  to  hunt  up  a  baby 
or  two.  Mrs.  Warren  might  lend  her  baby,  and  per 
haps  Mrs.  Fletcher  might  add  her  twins.  I'll  call  on 
them  at  once,  if  you  say  so." 

Virginia  looked  relieved,  and  in  a  voice  of  grati 
tude  responded: 

"You  are  really  very,  very  kind." 

"Well,  cheer  up,  Virginia;  cheer  up.  Every  cloud 
has  its  silver  limn';  and  I  guess  we  can  find  some 
babies  somewhere  even  if  we  have  to  advertise  in 
the  papers.  Now  I  must  be  goin',  and  I'll  stop  on 
the  way  and  make  a  bid  for  the  Fletcher  twins.  Good- 
by." 

When  Nicholas  Burke  learned  from  his  mother  of 


AN  ICEBOX  FOR  CHERUBIM       105 

the  quest  of  the  necessary  babies,  he  started  out  of 
his  own  motion  and  was  the  first  to  arrive  on  the 
scene  with  the  spoils  of  victory,  in  the  shape  of  the 
eighteen-months  infant  of  Mrs.  Thomas  McCarthy, 
for  which  he  had  been  obliged  to  pay  twenty-five 
cents  in  advance,  the  infant  protesting  vigorously  with 
all  the  power  of  a  well  developed  pair  of  lungs.  As 
Nickey  delivered  the  goods,  he  remarked  casually: 

"Say,  Miss  Virginia,  you  just  take  the  darn  thing 
quick.  He's  been  howlin'  to  beat  the  band." 

"Why,  Nickey,"  exclaimed  Virginia,  entranced,  and 
gingerly  possessing  herself  of  James  McCarthy, 
"however  did  you  get  him?" 

"His  ma  wouldn't  let  me  have  him  at  first;  and  it 
took  an  awful  lot  of  jollyin'  to  bring  her  round.  Of 
course  I  didn't  mean  to  tell  no  lies,  but  I  said  you 
was  awful  fond  of  kids.  I  said  that  if  you  only  had 
Jimmy,  it  would  give  the  nursery  a  dandy  send-off, 
'cause  she  was  so  well  known,  and  Mr.  McCarthy 
was  such  a  prominent  citizen.  When  she  saw  me 
cough  up  a  quarter  and  play  with  it  right  under  her 
nose,  I  could  see  she  was  givin'  in;  and  she  says  to 
me,  'Nickey,  you  can  take  him  just  this  once.  I'd  like 
to  help  the  good  cause  along,  and  Miss  Bascom,  she 
means  well.'  Ma's  gettin'  after  the  Fletcher  twins 
for  you." 


io6  HEPSEY  BURKE 

James  McCarthy  was  welcomed  with  open  arms, 
was  washed  and  dressed  in  the  most  approved  anti 
septic  manner;  his  gums  were  swabed  with  boracic 
acid,  and  he  was  fed  from  a  sterilized  bottle  on  Pas 
teurized  milk,  and  tucked  up  in  a  crib  with  carbolized 
sheets,  and  placed  close  to  the  window  where  he 
could  bask  in  actinic  rays,  and  inhale  ozone  to  his 
heart's  content.  Thus  the  passer-by  could  see  at  a 
glance  that  the  good  work  had  begun  to  bear  fruit. 

Mrs.  Burke  managed  to  get  hold  of  the  Fletcher 
twins,  and  as  they  both  howled  lustily  in  unison,  all 
the  time,  they  added  much  to  the  natural  domesticity 
of  the  scene  and  seemed  to  invite  further  patronage, 
like  barkers  at  a  side-show.  Mrs.  Warren  was  also 
persuaded. 

Although  the  village  was  thoroughly  canvassed, 
Miss  Bascom  was  obliged  to  content  herself  with  the 
McCarthy  baby  and  the  Fletcher  twins,  and  the  War 
ren  baby,  until,  one  morning,  a  colored  woman  ap 
peared  with  a  bundle  in  her  arms.  As  she  was  the 
first  voluntary  contributor  of  live  stock,  she  was 
warmly  welcomed,  and  a  great  fuss  made  over  the 
tiny  black  infant  which  gradually  emerged  from  the 
folds  of  an  old  shawl  "like  a  cuckoo  out  of  its 
cocoon,"  as  Mary  Quinn  remarked.  This,  of  course, 
was  very  nice  and  encouraging,  but  most  unfortun- 


AN  ICEBOX  FOR  CHERUBIM       107 

ately,  when  night  came,  the  mother  did  not  appear 
to  claim  her  progeny,  nor  did  she  ever  turn  up  again. 
Of  course  it  was  a  mere  oversight  on  her  part,  but 
Virginia  was  much  disturbed,  for,  to  her  very  great 
embarrassment,  she  found  herself  the  undisputed  pos 
sessor  of  a  coal  black  baby.  She  was  horrified  beyond 
measure,  and  sent  at  once  for  Mrs.  Burke. 

"What  shall  I  do,  what  shall  I  do,  Mrs.  Burke?" 
she  cried.  Mrs.  Burke  gazed  musingly  at  the  writh 
ing  black  blot  on  the  white  and  rose  blanket,  and  sug 
gested  : 

"Pity  you  couldn't  adopt  it,  Virginia.  You  always 
loved  children." 

"Adopt  it!"  Virginia  screamed  hysterically.  "What 
in  the  world  can  you  be  thinking  of?" 

"Well,  I  can't  think  of  anything  else,  unless  I  can 
persuade  Andy  Johnston,  the  colored  man  on  the 
farm,  to  adopt  it.  He  wouldn't  mind  its  complexion 
as  much  as  you  seem  to." 

Virginia  brightened  considerably  at  this  suggestion, 
exclaiming  excitedly : 

"Oh  Mrs.  Burke,  do  you  really  think  you  could?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  Perhaps  so.  At  any  rate, 
if  we  offer  to  help  pay  the  extra  expense,  Mrs.  John 
ston  might  bring  the  baby  up  as  her  own.  Then  they 
can  name  it  Virginia  Bascom  Johnston,  you  see." 


io8  HEPSEY  BURKE 

Virginia  bit  her  lip,  but  she  managed  to  control  her 
temper  as  she  exclaimed  quite  cheerfully: 

"Mrs.  Burke,  you  are  so  very  kind.  You  are  al 
ways  helping  somebody  out  of  a  scrape.' 

"Don't  overpraise  me,  Virginia.  My  head's  easily 
turned.  The  teachin's  of  experience  are  hard — but  I 
guess  they're  best  in  the  end.  Well,  send  the  poor 
little  imp  of  darkness  round  to  me  to-night,  and  I'll 
see  that  it  has  good  care." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Hepsey  had  qualms  of  con 
science  as  to  whether  she  should  not,  at  the  outset, 
have  discouraged  the  whole  baby  project;  experience 
threatened  to  give  its  lesson  by  pretty  hard  knocks, 
on  this  occasion. 

For  though  the  immediate  problem  was  thus  easily 
solved,  others  presented  themselves  to  vex  the  phil 
anthropic  Virginia. 

When  on  the  tenth  day  the  rental  for  the  Warren 
baby  and  the  Fletcher  twins  fell  due,  and  the  lease  of 
James  McCarthy  expired  without  privilege  of  re 
newal,  the  finances  of  the  nursery  were  at  a  very  low 
ebb.  It  certainly  did  not  help  matters  much  when, 
towards  night,  Mary  Quinn  called  Virginia's  attention 
to  the  fact  that  there  were  unmistakable  signs  of  a 
bad  rash  on  the  faces  of  the  twins,  and  very  suspicious 
spots  on  the  cheeks  of  the  Warren  baby.  Even  the 


AN  ICEBOX  FOR  CHERUBIM       109 

antiseptic  James  McCarthy  blushed  like  a  boiled  lob 
ster,  and  went  hopelessly  back  on  his  sterilized  char 
acter.  Of  course  the  only  thing  to  be  done  was  to 
send  at  once  for  the  doctor,  and  for  the  mothers  of 
the  respective  infants.  When  the  doctor  arrived  he 
pronounced  the  trouble  to  be  measles;  and  when  the 
mothers  made  their  appearance,  Virginia  learned 
something  of  the  unsuspected  resources  of  the  Eng 
lish  language  served  hot  from  the  tongues  of  three 
frightened  and  irate  women.  Finally  the  floor  was 
cleared,  and  the  place  closed  up  for  disinfection. 

Just  before  she  left,  Virginia  dropped  into  a  chair 
and  wept,  quite  oblivious  of  the  well-meant  consola 
tions  of  Mary  Quinn,  sometime  co-partner  in  "The 
Durford  Day-Nursery  for  the  Children  of  Working 
Women." 

"We've  done  the  very  best  we  could,  Miss  Bascom; 
and  it  certainly  isn't  our  fault  that  the  venture  turned 
out  badly.  Poor  babies !" 

At  this  the  sobbing  Virginia  was  roused  to  one  last 
protest: 

"Mary  Quinn,  if  ever  you  say  another  word  to  me 
about  babies,  I'll  have  you  arrested.  I  just  hate 
babies,  and — and  everything!  Why,  there  comes  Mr. 
Maxwell !  Say,  Mary,  you  just  run  and  get  me  a  wet 
towel  to  wipe  my  face  with,  while  I  hunt  for  my 


no  HEPSEY  BURKE 

combs  and  do  up  my  back  hair.     And  then  if  you 
wouldn't  mind  vanishing  for  a  while — I'm  sure  you 
understand — for  if  ever  I  needed  spiritual  consola^ 
tion  and  the  help  of  the  church,  it  is  now,  this  min-  ? 
ute." 


HB 

FEW   weeks    after   Donald's   conversational 
duel  with  Mrs.  Burke  he  started  on  a  six- 
weeks'    vacation,    which    he    had    certainly 
earned;  and  as  he  busied  himself  with  his  packing, — 
Hepsey  assisting, — he  announced: 

"When  I  come  back,  Mrs.  Burke,  I  probably  shall 
not  come  alone." 

He  was  strapping  up  his  suit-case  when  he  made 
this  rather  startling  announcement,  and  the  effect 
seemed  to  send  the  blood  to  his  head.  Mrs.  Burke 

in 


ii2  HEPSEY  BURKE 

did  not  seem  to  notice  his  confusion  as  she  remarked 
calmly : 

"Hm !  That's  a  good  thing.  Your  grandmother 
can  have  the  room  next  to  yours,  and  we'll  do  all  we 
can  to  make  the  old  lady  comfortable.  I'm  sure  she'll 
be  a  great  comfort  to  you,  though  she'll  get  a  bit 
lonesome  at  times,  unless  she's  active  on  her  feet.5' 

Donald  laughed,  as  he  blushed  more  furiously  and 
stuttered: 

"No,  I  am  not  going  to  bring  my  grandmother 
here,  and  I  strongly  suspect  that  you  know  what  I 
mean.  I'm  going  to  be  married." 

"So  you  are  going  to  get  married,  are  you?"  Hep- 
sey  remarked  with  due  amazement,  as  if  the  suspicion 
of  the  fact  had  never  entered  her  head  before. 
"Well,  I  am  mighty  glad  of  it.  I  only  wish  that  1 
was  goin'  to  be  present  to  give  you  away.  Yes,  I'm 
mighty  glad.  She'll  make  a  new  man  of  you  up  here, 
so  long  as  she  isn't  a  new  woman." 

"No,  not  in  the  slang  sense  of  the  word;  although 
I  think  you  will  find  her  very  capable,  and  I  hope 
with  all  my  heart  that  you'll  like  her." 

"I'm  sure  I  shall.  The  question  is  whether  she'll 
like  me." 

Hepsey  Burke  looked  rather  sober  for  a  moment, 
and  Donald  instantly  asserted: 


THE  RECTORY  113 

"She  can't  help  liking  you." 

"We-ell  now,  I  could  mention  quite  a  number  of 
people  who  find  it  as  easy  as  rolling  off  a  log  to  dls- 
like  me.  But  that  doesn't  matter  much.  I  have  found 
it  a  pretty  good  plan  not  to  expect  a  great  deal  of 
adoration,  and  to  be  mighty  grateful  for  the  little 
you  get.  Be  sure  you  let  me  know  when  to  expect 
you  and  your  grandmother  back." 

"Most  certainly  I  shall,"  he  laughed.  "It  witf  be 
in  about  six  weeks,  you  know.  Good-by,  and  thank 
you  a  thousand  times  for  all  your  kindness  to  me." 

There  was  considerable  moisture  in  Hepsey's  eyes 
as  she  stood  and  watched  Maxwell  drive  down  the 
road.  Then  wiping  her  eyes  furtively  with  one  cor 
ner  of  her  apron  she  remarked  to  herself: 

"Well,  I  suppose  I  am  glad,  mighty  glad;  but 
somehow  it  isn't  the  jolliest  thing  in  the  world  to 
have  one's  friends  get  married.  They  are  never  the 
same  again;  and  in  ten  times  out  of  six  the  lady  in  the 
case  is  jealous  of  her  husband's  friends,  and  tries  to 
make  trouble.  It  takes  a  lady  saint  to  share  her 
husband's  interests  with  anybody,  and  maybe  she  'aint 
to  blame.  Well,  the  next  thing  in  order  is  to  fix  up 
the  rectory  in  six  weeks.  The  best  way  to  repair  that 
thing  is  with  a  match  and  some  real  good  kerosene 
and  a  few  shavings;  however,  we'll  have  to  do  the 


ii4  HEPSEY  BURKE 

best  we  can.  I  think  I'll  set  Jonathan  Jackson  to 
work  this  afternoon,  and  go  around  and  interview  the 
vestry  myself." 

Jonathan  proved  resignedly  obedient  to  Hepsey's 
demands,  but  the  vestry  blustered  and  scolded,  be 
cause  they  had  not  been  consulted  in  the  matter,  until 
Hepsey  said  she  would  be  glad  to  receive  any  contri 
bution  they  might  choose  to  offer;  then  they  relapsed 
into  innocuous  desuetude  and  talked  crops. 

As  soon  as  the  repairs  were  well  under  way,  the 
whole  town  was  wild  with  gossip  about  Maxwell  and 
Miss  Bascom.  If  he  were  going  to  occupy  the  rectory, 
the  necessary  inference  was  that  he  was  going  to  be 
married,  as  he  surely  would  not  contemplate  keeping 
bachelor's  hall  by  himself.  At  last  Virginia  had  at 
tained  the  height  of  her  ambition  and  captured  the 
rector!  Consequently  she  was  the  center  of  interest 
in  every  social  gathering,  although,  as  the  engagement 
had  not  been  formally  announced,  no  one  felt  at  lib 
erty  to  congratulate  her.  To  any  tentative  and  in 
sinuating  advances  in  this  direction  Virginia  replied  by 
non-committal  smiles,  capable  of  almost  any  interpre 
tation;  and  the  seeker  after  information  was  none  the 
wiser. 

Mrs.  Roscoe- Jones,  by  virtue  of  her  long  intimacy 
with  Hepsey  and  her  assured  social  position  in  Dur- 


THE  RECTORY  115) 

ford's  thirty  gentry,  felt  that  she  was  entitled  to  some 
definite  information ;  and  so,  as  they  walked  back  from 
church  one  Wednesday  afternoon,  she  remarked: 

"I  hear  that  the  parish  is  going  to  repair  the  rec 
tory,  and  that  you  are  taking  a  great  interest  in  it. 
You  must  be  on  very  intimate  terms  with  Mr.  Bascom 
and  the  vestry!" 

"Well,  not  exactly.  Bascom  and  I  haven't  held 
hands  in  the  dark  for  some  time;  but  I  am  going  to 
do  what  I  can  to  get  the  house  in  order  for  Mr. 
Maxwell." 

"I  wonder  where  the  money  is  coming  from  to  com 
plete  the  work?  It  seems  to  me  that  the  whole  par 
ish  ought  to  be  informed  about  the  matter,  and  share 
in  the  work;  but  I  suppose  Mr.  Bascom's  shouldering 
it  all,  since  there's  been  no  effort  to  raise  money  by 
having  a  fair." 

"I  really  don't  know  much  about  it  as  yet,  Sarah. 
Of  course  Bascom's  charitable  work  is  mostly  done 
in  secret,  so  that  nobody  ever  finds  it  out.  He  is  a 
modest  man  and  wouldn't  like  to  be  caught  in  the  act 
of  signing  a  check  for  anybody  else.  It  might  seem 
showy." 

"Yes,  I  understand,"  Mrs.  Roscoe-Jones  retorted 
dryly;  "but  under  the  cirumstances,  that  is " 


1 1 6  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"Under  what  circumstances?"  Mrs.  Burke  inquired 
quickly. 

"Oh,  considering  that  Mr.  Bascom  is  Virginia's 
father  and  would  want  to  make  her  comfortable,  you 
know " 

"No,  I  don't  know.  I'm  awful  stupid  about  some 
things.  You  must  have  discovered  that  before." 

"Now  Hepsey,  what  is  the  use  of  beating  around 
the  bush  like  this  ?  You  must  know  the  common  gos 
sip  of  the  town,  and  you  must  be  in  Mr.  Maxwell's 
confidence.  What  shall  I  say  when  people  ask  me  if 
he  is  engaged  to  Virginia  Bascom?" 

"Tell  'em  you  don't  know  a  blessed  thing  about  it. 
What  else  can  you  tell  'em?  You  might  tell  'em  that 
you  tried  to  pump  me  and  the  pump  wouldn't  work 
'cause  it  needed  packin'." 

After  this,  Mrs.  Roscoe-Jones  felt  that  there  was 
nothing  left  for  her  to  do  but  retire  from  the  scene; 
so  she  crossed  the  road. 

When  Mrs.  Burke  began  the  actual  work  on  the 
rectory  she  quickly  realized  what  she  had  to  cope 
with.  The  workmen  of  Durford  had  a  pleasing  habit 
of  accepting  all  offers  of  work,  and  promising  any 
thing,  and  making  a  start  so  as  to  get  the  job;  and 
then,  having  upset  the  whole  premises,  they  promtly 
"lit  out"  for  parts  unknown  in  order  to  get  another 


THE  RECTORY  117 

job,  and  no  mortal  knew  when  they  would  return.  It 
always  seemed  promising  and  hopeful  to  see  a  labor 
ing  man  arrive  in  his  overalls  with  his  dinner-pail  and 
tools  at  seven ;  but  when  two  hours  later  he  had  van 
ished,  not  to  return,  it  was  a  bit  discouraging.  Mrs. 
Burke  was  not  in  a  very  good  humor  when,  arriving 
at  the  rectory,  she  met  Tom  Snyder  the  plumber,  at 
ten-thirty,  walking  briskly  away  from  his  job.  She 
planted  herself  squarely  across  the  walk  and  began : 

"Good  morning,  Thomas;  where  are  you  going,  if 
I  may  ask?" 

"I  am  going  back  for  my  tools,  Mrs.  Burke." 

"Excuse  me,  Thomas,  but  you  were  never  more 
mistaken  in  your  Ife.  You  put  the  kitchen  pipes  out 
of  business  two  weeks  ago,  and  you  must  have  been 
goin'  back  for  your  tools  ever  since.  I  suppose  you're 
chargin'  me  by  the  hour  for  goin'  backwards." 

Thomas  looked  sheepish  and  scratched  his  head 
with  his  dirty  fingers. 

"No,  but  I  have  to  finish  a  little  job  I  begun  for 
Elias  Warden  on  the  hill.  I'll  be  back  again  right 
away." 

"None  of  that,  Thomas.  You're  goin'  back  to  the 
rectory  with  me  now,  and  if  the  job  isn't  finished  by 
six  o'clock,  you'll  never  get  your  hands  on  it  again." 

The  crestfallen  Thomas  reluctantly  turned  around 


n  8  HEPSEY  BURKE 

and  accompanied  Hepsey  back  to  the  rectory  and  fin 
ished  his  work  in  half  an  hour. 

After  much  trial  and  tribulation  the  rectory  was 
duly  repaired,  replastered,  and  papered.  The  grass 
had  been  cut;  the  bushes  were  trimmed;  and  the  house 
had  been  painted.  Then  Mrs.  Burke  obtained  a  hay 
rack  with  a  team,  and  taking  Nickey  and  Jonathan 
Jackson  with  her,  made  a  tour  of  the  parish  asking 
for  such  furniture  as  individual  parishioners  were  will 
ing  to  give.  Late  in  the  afternoon  she  arrived  at  the 
rectory  with  a  very  large  load,  and  the  next  day  Jon 
athan  was  made  to  set  to  work  with  his  tools,  and  she 
started  in  with  some  paint  and  varnish,  and  the  result 
seemed  eminently  satisfactory  to  her,  even  though 
her  hands  were  stained,  she  had  had  no  dinner,  and 
her  hair  was  stuck  to  her  head  here  and  there  in  shiny 
spots.  As  they  were  leaving  the  house  to  return 
home  for  supper,  she  scowled  severely  at  Jonathan  as 
she  remarked : 

"Jonathan,  I  do  believe  you've  got  more  red  paint 
on  the  top  of  your  head  than  you  left  on  the  kitchen 
chairs.  Do  for  mercy  sake  wash  the  end  of  your  nose. 
I  don't  care  to  be  seen  comin'  out  of  here  with  you 
lookin'  like  that,"  she  added  scathingly. 

After  that,  it  was,  as  Mrs.  Burke  remarked,  just 
fun  to  finish  the  rectory;  and  though  so  much  had 


THE  RECTORY  119 

been  given  by  the  people  of  the  parish,  there  were 
many  new  pieces  of  furniture  delivered,  for  which  no 
one  could  account.  As  neither  Mr.  Bascom  nor  Miss 
Bascom  had  sent  anything,  and  as  neither  had  ap 
peared  on  the  scene,  excitement  was  at  fever  heat. 
Rumor  had  it  that  Virginia  had  gone  to  the  city  for 
a  week  or  so,  to  buy  her  trousseau.  Presently  the  re 
port  circulated  that  Maxwell  was  going  to  bring  his 
bride  back  with  him  when  he  returned  from  his  vaca 
tion. 

The  day  before  the  one  set  for  Maxwell's  arrival 
Mrs.  Burke  confessed  the  truth,  and  suggested  that 
the  rectory  be  stocked  with  provisions,  so  that  the 
bride  and  groom  should  have  something  to  eat  when 
they  first  got  home.  The  idea  seemd  to  please  the 
parish,  and  provisions  began  to  arrive  and  were  placed 
in  the  cellar,  or  on  the  newly  painted  pantry  shelves, 
or  in  the  neat  cupboards.  Mrs.  Talbot  sent  a  bushel 
of  potatoes,  Mrs.  Peterson  a  pan  of  soda  biscuit, 
Mrs.  Andrews  two  loaves  of  bread;  Mrs.  Squires  do 
nated  a  pan  of  soda  biscuit,  Mrs.  Johnson  some  frost 
ed  cake,  and  Mrs.  Marlow  two  bushels  of  apples. 
Mrs.  Hurd  sent  a  pan  of  soda  biscuit,  Mrs.  Waldorf 
three  dozen  eggs,  and  a  sack  of  flour;  Mrs. 
Freyburg  sent  a  pan  of  soda  biscuit,  Mrs.  Jones 
a  boiled  ham,  Mrs.  Orchardson  two  bushels 


120  HEPSEY  BURKE 

of     turnips     and    half    a     pan    of    soda     biscuit. 

Mrs.  Burke  received  the  provisions  as  they  arrived, 
and  put  them  where  they  belonged.  Just  about  sup 
per  time  Mrs.  Loomis  came  with  a  large  bundle  under 
her  arm  and  remarked  to  Hepsey : 

"I  thought  I'd  bring  something  nobody  else  would 
think  of — something  out  of  the  ordinary  that  perhaps 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Maxwell  would  relish." 

"I'm  sure  that  was  real  thoughtful  of  you,  Mrs. 
Loomis,"  Hepsey  replied.  "What  have  you  got?" 

"Well,"  Mrs.  Loomis  responded,  "I  thought  I'd 
bring  'em  two  pans  of  my  nice  fresh  soda  biscuit." 

Mrs.  Burke  kept  her  face  straight,  and  responded 
cheerfully : 

"That  was  awful  nice  of  you,  Mrs.  Loomis." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right.  And  if  you  want  any  more, 
just  let  me  know." 

Finally,  when  the  door  was  closed  on  the  last  con 
tributor,  Mrs.  Burke  dropped  into  a  chair  and  called: 

"Jonathan  Jackson,  come  here  quick." 

Jonathan  responded  promptly,  and  anxiously  in 
quired  : 

"Hepsey,  be  you  ill?" 

"No,  I'm  not  sick;  but  we  have  ten  pans  of  soda 
biscuit.  They  are  in  the  pantry,  down  cellar,  in  the 
woodshed,  on  the  parlor  table.  For  mercy's  sake 


THE  RECTORY  12* 

take  eight  pans  out  to  the  chickens  or  stick  'em  on 
the  picket  fence.  I  just  loathe  soda  biscuit;  and  if 
any  more  come  I  shall  throw  'em  at  the  head  of  the 
woman  that  brings  'em." 


NEXT  morning,  when  Nickey  brought  up  the 
mail,  Mrs.  Burke  looked  anxiously  over  her 
letters  until  she  came  to  the  one  she  was  ex 
pecting.     She  read  it  in  silence. 

The  gist  of  the  matter  was  that  Maxwell  had  been 
married  to  the  nicest  girl  in  the  world,  and  was  look 
ing  forward  to  having  Mrs.  Burke  meet  her,  and  to 
have  his  wife  know  the  woman  who  had  been  so  su 
premely  good  to  him  in  the  parish.  He  closed  by  in- 
'forming  her  that  they  were  to  return  the  next  day  at 

122 


THE  BRIDE'S  ARRIVAL  123 

five  P.  M.,  and  if  it  were  not  asking  too  much,  he 
hoped  that  she  would  take  them  in  for  a  few  days 
until  they  could  find  quarters  elsewhere.  The  letter 
was  countersigned  by  a  pretty  little  plea  for  friend 
ship  from  "Mrs.  Betty." 

Mrs.  Burke  replaced  the  letter  and  murmured  to 
herself,  smiling: 

"Poor  little  dear!  Of  course  they  could  come  and 
Stay  as  long  as  they  pleasec  ;  but  as  the  rectory  is  in 
order,  I  think  that  I'll  meet  them  at  the  depot,  and 
take  them  there  direct.  They'll  be  much  happier  alone 
by  themselves  from  the  start.  I'll  have  supper  ready 
for  'em,  and  cook  the  chickens  while  they're  unpackin' 
their  trunks." 

As  Mrs.  Burke  thought  it  best  to  maintain  a  dis 
creet  silence  as  to  the  time  of  their  arrival,  there  was 
no  one  but  herself  to  meet  them  at  the  station  when 
the  train  pulled  in.  As  Maxwell  presented  his  wife 
to  Mrs.  Burke,  Hepsey  took  the  girl's  two  hands  in 
hers  and  kissed  her  heartily,  and  then,  looking  at  her 
keenly  as  the  bride  blushed  under  her  searching  gaze, 
she  remarked: 

"You're  a  dreadful  disappointment,  Mrs.  Maxwell. 
I'm  afraid  it'll  take  me  a  long  time  to  get  over  it." 

"I  am  horribly  sorry  to  disappoint  you  so,  Mrs. 
Burke." 


i24  HEPSEY  BURKE 

Maxwell  laughed,  while  Mrs.  Betty  looked  puz 
zled. 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Burke  continued,  "you're  a  dreadful 
disappointment.  Your  picture  isn't  half  as  sweet  as 
you  are."  Then  turning  to  Maxwell,  she  said  : 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?  Who  taught  you  to 
pick  out  just  the  right  sort  of  wife,  I'd  like  to 
know?" 

"She  did!"  Maxwell  replied,  pointing  delightedly 
to  the  young  woman,  who  was  still  smiling  and  blush 
ing  under  Hepsey's  inspection. 

"But  Mrs.  Burke,"  Mrs.  Betty  interposed,  "can't 
you  give  me  a  little  credit  for  'picking  out'  Donald, 
as  you  say?" 

"Yes ;  Mr.  Maxwell's  pretty  fine,  though  I  wouldn't 
want  to  have  you  tell  him  so,  for  anything.  But  I 
know,  because  Durford  is  calculated  to  test  a  man's 
mettle,  if  any  place  ever  was.  Now  Mrs.  Betty,  if 
that's  what  I'm  to  call  you,  if  you'll  get  into  the 
wagon  we'll  drive  home  and  have  some  supper.  You 
must  be  'most  famished  by  this  time,  if  you  stop 
thinkin'  about  Mr.  Maxwell  long  enough  to  have  an 
appetite.  I  suppose  that  we  might  have  had  a  com 
mittee  of  the  vestry  down  here  to  bid  you  welcome  to 
Durford;  and  Nickey  suggested  the  village  band  and 
some  hot  air  balloons,  and  that  the  boys  of  the  parish 


THE  BRIDE'S  ARRIVAL  125 

should  pull  the  carriage  up  to  the  house  after  they'd 
presented  you  with  a  magnificent  bouquet;  but  I 
thought  you'd  just  like  to  slip  m  unnoticed  and  get 
acquainted  with  your  parishioners  one  at  a  time.  It'd 
be  simply  awful  to  have  a  whole  bunch  of  'em  thrown 
at  your  head  at  once;  and  as  for  the  whole  vestry — 
well,  never  mind." 

They  got  into  the  "democrat"  and  started  out  at  a 
smart  trot,  but  when  they  came  to  the  road  which 
turned  toward  Thunder  Cliff,  Mrs.  Burke  drove 
straight  across  the  green. 

"Why,  where  are  you  going,  Mrs.  Burke?"  Max 
well  exclaimed. 

"Well,  I  thought  that  maybe  Mrs.  Betty  would  like 
to  get  a  sight  of  the  town  before  we  went  home." 

When  they  came  to  the  rectory  and  turned  into  the 
yard,  the  wonderful  transformation  dawned  on  Max 
well. 

"My  gracious,  what  a  change !  It's  perfectly  mar 
velous,"  he  exclaimed.  "Why  Mrs.  Burke,  I  believe 
you've  brought  us  here  to  live  1" 

"Right  you  are,  my  friend.  This  is  where  you  be 
long." 

"Well,  you  certainly  do  beat  the  Dutch.  Who  is 
responsible  for  all  this,  I'd  like  to  know?  But  of 
course  it's  you." 


126  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"Well,  I  had  a  hand  in  it,  but  so  did  the  whole 
parish.  Now  walk  right  in  and  make  yourselves  at 
home." 

Mrs.  Burke  enjoyed  to  the  full  Maxwell's  surprise 
and  delight,  as  he  and  Mrs.  Betty  explored  the  house 
like  a  couple  of  very  enthusiastic  children.  When 
they  got  into  the  china  closet  and  Mrs.  Betty  found 
a  silver  tea-ball  she  exclaimed  rapturously : 

"Look  here,  Donald !  Did  you  ever  see  the  like  of 
this?  Here  is  a  regular  tea-ball.  We  will  have  tea 
every  afternoon  at  four,  and  Mrs.  Burke  will  be  our 
guest.  How  perfectly  delightful." 

This  remark  seemed  to  please  Hepsey  mightily,  as 
she  exclaimed: 

"Oh,  my,  no !  Do  you  want  to  spoil  my  nervous 
system  ?  We  are  not  given  much  to  tea-balls  in  Dur- 
ford.  We  consider  ourselves  lucky  if  we  get  a  plain 
old-fashioned  pot.  Now  you  get  fixed  up,"  she  di 
rected,  "while  I  get  supper  ready,  and  I'll  stay  just 
this  time,  if  you'll  let  me,  and  then  if  you  can  stand 
it,  perhaps  you'll  ask  me  again." 

Soon  they  sat  down  to  a  little  table  covered  with 
spotless  linen  and  a  pretty  set  of  white  china  with 
gold  bands.  Maxwell  did  not  say  much ;  he  was  still 
too  surprised  and  delighted. 

The  broiled  chickens  and  the  browned  potato  balls 


1 


THE  BRIDE'S  ARRIVAL  127 

were  placed  before  Maxwell,  who  faced  Mrs.  Betty 
— Hepsey  sitting  between  them. 

"Now  this  is  what  I  call  rich,"  Maxwell  exclaimed 
as  he  carved.  "I  hadn't  the  slightest  suspicion  that 
we  were  to  come  here  and  find  all  these  luxuries." 

"However  did  the  house  get  furnished?"  chimed  in 
Mrs.  Betty. 

"Oh  well,"  Mrs.  Burke  replied,  "I  always  believe 
that  two  young  married  people  should  start  out  by 
themselves,  you  know;  and  then  if  they  get  into  a 
family  row  it  wont  scandalize  the  parish.  The  only 
new  thing  about  the  furnishings  is  paint  and  varnish. 
I  drove  around  and  held  up  the  parish,  and  made 
them  stand  and  deliver  the  goods,  and  Jonathan  Jack 
son  and  I  touched  it  up  a  little;  that's  all." 

"We  ought  to  acknowledge  each  gift  personally," 
Maxwell  said.  "You  must  tell  us  who's  given  what." 

"Oh,  no  you  wont.  When  I  took  these  things  away 
from  their  owners  by  force,  I  acknowledged  them  in 
the  politest  way  possible,  so  as  to  save  you  the 
trouble.  You're  not  supposed  to  know  where  a  thing 
came  from." 

"But  there  must  have  been  a  lot  of  money  spent  on 
the  rectory  to  get  it  into  shape,"  Maxwell  asserted, 
"Where  did  it  all  come  from?" 

Mrs.  Burke  grinned  with  amusement. 


128  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"Why,  can't  you  guess?  Of  course  it  was  that 
merry-hearted,  generous  old  Senior  Warden  of  yours. 
WTho  else  could  it  be?  If  there  is  anything  you  need, 
just  let  us  know." 

"But  the  house  seems  to  be  very  completely  fur 
nished  as  it  is." 

"No,  not  yet.  If  you  look  around  you'll  see  lots 
of  things  that  aren't  here." 

Mrs.  Betty  quite  raved  over  the  salad,  made  of 
lettuce,  oranges,  walnuts  and  a  mayonnaise  dressing. 
Then  there  came  ice  cream  and  chocolate  sauce,  fol 
lowed  by  black  coffee. 

"This  is  quite  too  much,  Mrs.  Burke.  You  must 
be  a  superb  cook.  I  am  horribly  afraid  you'll  have 
spoiled  Donald,  so  that  my  cooking  will  seem  very 
tame  to  him,"  Mrs.  Betty  remarked. 

"Well,  never  mind,  Mrs.  Betty.  If  worst  comes 
to  worst  there  are  seven  pans  of  soda  biscuit  secreted 
around  the  premises  somewhere;  so  don't  be  discour 
aged.  There  are  lots  of  things  you  can  do  with  a 
soda  biscuit,  if  you  know  how.  Now  we'll  just  clear 
the  table,  and  wash  the  dishes,  and  put  things  away." 

When  about  nine  o'clock  she  arose  to  go,  Maxwell 
took  both  Hepsey's  hands  in  his  and  said  quietly: 

"Mrs.  Burke,  I'm  more  indebted  to  you  than  I  can 
possibly  say,  for  all  you  have  done  for  us.  I  wish  I 


THE  BRIDE'S  ARRIVAL  1 29 

knew  how  to  thank  you  properly,  but  I  don't." 

"Oh,  never  mind  that,"  Mrs.  Burke  replied,  a  mist 
gathering  in  her  eyes,  "it's  been  lots  of  fun,  and  if 
you're  satisfied  I'm  more  than  pleased."  Then,  put 
ting  her  arm  around  Mrs.  Betty's  waist,  she  con 
tinued  : 

"Remember  that  we're  not  payin'  this  nice  little 
wife  of  yours  to  do  parish  work,  and  if  people  inter 
fere  with  her  you  just  tell  em  to  go  to  Thunder  Cliff. 
Good-by." 

She  was  turning  away  when  suddenly  she  stopped, 
an  expression  of  horror  on  her  face: 

"My!  think  of  that  now!  This  was  a  bride's  din 
ner-party,  and  I  put  yellow  flowers  on  the  table,  in 
stead  of  white!  What'd  city  folks  say  to  that!" 


OTGINM 


MRS.  BETTY  soon  succeeded  in  winning  a 
place  for  herself  in  the  hearts  of  her  par 
ishioners,  and  those  who  called  to  look  over 
her  "clothes,"  and  see  if  she  was  going  to  "put  on 
airs"  as  a  city  woman,  called  again  because  they  really 
liked  her.     She  returned  the  calls  with  equal  interest, 
and  soon  had  her  part  of  the  parish  organization  well 
in  hand. 

Maxwell's  choice  was,  in  fact,  heartily  approved — 
except  by  Virginia  Bascom  and  the  Senior  Warden. 

130 


VIRGINIA'S  HIGH  HORSE  131 

The  former  took  the  opportunity  to  leave  cards  on 
an  afternoon  when  all  Durford  was  busily  welcoming 
Betty  at  a  tea;  and  was  "not  at  home"  when  Betty 
duly  returned  the  call.  Virginia  was  also  careful  not 
to  "see"  either  Betty  or  her  husband  if,  by  any 
chance,  they  passed  her  when  in  town. 

Of  all  of  which  manoeuvres  Betty  and  Donald  re 
mained  apparently  sublimely  unconscious. 

As  a  means  of  making  some  return  for  the  good- 
hearted  generosity  and  hospitality  of  the  inhabitants, 
represented  by  the  furniture  at  the  rectory  and  many 
tea-parties  under  various  roof-trees,  Mrs.  Maxwell 
persuaded  her  husband  that  they  should  give  a  parish 
party. 

So  invitations  were  issued  broadcast,  and  Mrs. 
Burke  was  asked  to  scan  the  lists,  lest  anyone  be 
omitted.  China  sufficient  for  the  occasion  was  sup 
plemented  by  Hepsey  Burke  and  Jonathan  Jackson, 
and  Nickey  laid  his  invaluable  services  under  con 
tribution  to  fetch  and  carry — organizing  a  corps  of 
helpers. 

The  whole  adult  village, — at  least  the  feminine 
portion  of  it, — young  and  old,  presented  themselves 
at  the  party,  dressed  in  their  best  bibs  and  tuckers, 
amusing  themselves  outdoors  at  various  improvised 
games,  under  the  genial  generalship  of  their  host; 


132  HEPSEY  BURKE 

and  regaling  themselves  within  at  the  tea-tables  pre 
sided  over  by  Mrs.  Betty,  whose  pride  it  was  to  have 
prepared  with  her  own  hands, — assisted  by  the  inde 
fatigable  Hepsey, — all  the  cakes  and  preserves  and 
other  confections  provided  for  the  occasion.  The 
whole  party  was  one  whole-hearted,  simply  convivial 
gathering — with  but  a  single  note  to  mar  it;  and  who 
knows  whether  the  rector,  and  still  less  the  rector's 
wife,  would  have  noticed  it,  but  for  Hepsey  Burke's 
subsequent  "boiling  over?" 

When  the  games  and  feast  were  at  full  swing,  Vir 
ginia  Bascom's  loud-voiced  automobile  drove  up,  and 
the  door-bell  pealed.  The  guests  ceased  chattering 
and  the  little  maid,  hired  for  the  occasion,  hurried 
from  the  tea-cups  to  answer  the  haughty  summons. 
Through  the  silence  in  the  tea-room,  produced  by  the 
overpowering  clatter  of  the  bell,  the  voice  of  the  lit 
tle  maid, — quite  too  familiar  for  the-proper  formal 
ity  of  the  occasion,  in  Virginia's  opinion, — was  heard 
to  pipe  out  cheerily: 

"Come  right  in,  Miss  Virginia;  the  folks  has  eat 
most  all  the  victuals — but  I  guess  Mrs.  Maxwell  '11 
find  ye  some." 

"Please  announce  'Miss  Virginia  Bascom',"  droned 
the  lady,  ignoring  the  untoward  levity  of  the  now 
cowering  maid,  and  followed  her  to  the  door  of  the 


VIRGINIA'S  HIGH  HORSE  133 

room  full  of  guests,  where  she  paused  impressively. 

"Mrs.  Bascom,"  called  the  confused  maid,  through 
the  solemn  silence,  as  all  eyes  turned  towards  the 
door,  "here's, — this  is, — I  mean  Miss  Virginia  says 

Miss  Virginia  Maxwell "  After  which  confusing 

and  somewhat  embarrassing  announcement  the  maid 
summarily  fled  to  the  kitchen,  and  left  Virginia  to 
her  own  devices. 

Betty  at  once  came  forward,  and  quite  ignoring  the 
error,  smiled  a  pleasant  welcome. 

"Miss  Bascom,  it  is  very  nice  to  know  you  at  last. 
We  have  been  so  unlucky,  have  we  not?" 

Virginia  advanced  rustling,  and  gave  Betty  a  frigid 
finger-tip,  held  shoulder-high,  and  cast  a  collective 
stare  at  hostess  and  guests  through  her  lorgnette, 
bowing  to  Maxwell  and  ignoring  his  proffered  hand 
shake. 

There  was  an  awkward  pause.  For  once  even 
Betty-the-self-possessed  was  at  a  loss  for  the  neces 
sary  tactics. 

A  hearty  voice  soon  filled  the  empty  spaces :  "Hello 
there,  Ginty;  I  always  did  say  those  auto's  was  a 
poor  imitation  of  a  street-car;  when  they  get  balky 
and  leave  you  sticking  in  the  road-side  and  make  you 
behind-time,  you  can't  so  much  as  get  your  Tare  back 
and  walk.  None  but  royalty,  duchesses,  and  the  four- 


i34  HEPSEY  BURKE 

hundred  can  afford  to  risk  losing  their  cup  o'  tea  in 
them  things." 

There  was  a  general  laugh  at  Hepsey's  sally,  and 
conversation  again  resumed  its  busy  buzzing,  and 
Virginia  was  obliged  to  realize  that  her  entry  had  been 
something  of  a  frost. 

She  spent  some  minutes  drawing  off  her  gloves, 
sipped  twice  at  a  cup  of  tea,  and  nibbled  once  at  a 
cake;  spent  several  more  minutes  getting  her  hands 
back  into  her  gloves,  fixed  a  good-by  smile  on  her 
face,  murmured  some  unintelligible  words  to  her 
hostess,  and  departed,  annoyed  to  realize  that  the 
engine  of  the  awaiting  car — kept  running  to  empha 
size  her  comet-like  passage  through  so  mixed  an  as- 
embly — had  become  quite  inaudible  to  the  company. 

"Such  an  insult!"  stormed  the  lady,  as  she  returned 
home  in  high  dudgeon.  "I  might  have  been  a  nobody, 
the  way  they  treated  me.  Dad  shall  hear  of  this; 
and  I'll  see  that  he  puts  them  where  they  belong.  The 
impudence!  And  after  his  t-treating  me  s-s-so!"  she 
wept  with  chagrin,  and  malice  that  betokened  no  good 
to  the  rector  and  his  little  wife. 

Even  so,  it  is  doubtful  if  the  host  and  hostess  would 
have  permitted  themselves  to  notice  the  supercilious 
rudeness  of  the  leader  of  Durford  "Society,"  had 
Hepsey  been  able  to  curb  her  indignation. 


VIRGINIA'S  HIGH  HORSE          133 

As  she  and  Betty  and  the  little  maid,  assisted  by 
Donald  and  Nickey  and  his  helpers,  were  clearing 
up  the  fragments  that  remained  of  the  entertainment, 
Hepsey  broke  forth : 

"If  I  don't  set  that  young  woman  down  in  her  place 
where  she  belongs  before  I've  done,  I've  missed  my 
guess:  'Please  announce  Miss  Virginia  Bascom,'  in 
deed!  If  that  isn't  sauce,  I'm  the  goose." 

"Oh  never  mind,  Mrs.  Burke,"  soothed  Betty  in  a 
low  voice;  "she'll  soon  realize  that  we're  doing  things 
in  good  old  country  style,  and  haven't  brought  any 
city  ways  with  us  to  Durford.  I  dare  say  she 
thought " 

"Thought  nothin' !"  replied  the  exasperated  Hep 
sey.  "I'll  thought  her,  with  her  high  looks  and  her 
proud  stomach,  as  the  psalmist  says.  I'd  like — oh, 
wouldn't  I  just  like  to  send  up  a  nice  little  basket  of 
these  left-over  victuals  to  Ginty,  'with  Mrs.  Max 
well's  regards.'  ' 

She  laughed  heartily,  but  Betty  was  determined 
not  to  let  herself  dwell  on  anything  so  trivial,  and 
soon,  by  way  of  changing  the  subject,  she  was  putting 
Nickey  up  to  the  idea  of  forming  a  boy-scout  corps, 
which,  as  she  added,  could  present  the  village  with 
a  thoroughly  versatile  organization,  both  useful  and 
ornamental. 


136  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"Gee,"  remarked  Nickey,  who  quickly  saw  himself 
captaining  a  body  of  likely  young  blades,  "that'd  be 
some  lively  corpse,  believe  me.  When  can  we  start 
in,  Mrs.  Maxwell?" 

"You  must  ask  Mr.  Maxwell  all  about  that,  Nick 
ey,"  she  laughed. 

"But  not  now,"  interposed  his  mother.  "You  come 
along  with  me  this  minute,  and  let  Mr.  Maxwell  have 
a  bit  of  peace;  I  know  how  he  just  loves  these  teas. 
Good  night,  all!"  she  called  as  she  departed  with  her 
son  under  her  wing. 

"Donald!  Wasn't  it  all  fun — and  weren't  they  all 
splendid?"  Betty  glowed. 

"More  fun  than  a  barrel  of  Bascoms — monkeys,  I 
mean,"  he  corrected  himself,  laughing  at  Betty's 
shocked  expression. 


ItJ 


CHAPTER.:™ 


APART  from  Mrs.  Burke,  there  was  no  one  in 
the  town  who  so  completely  surrendered  to 
Mrs.   Maxwell's  charms  as  Jonathan  Jack 
son,  the  Junior    Warden.      Betty    had    penetration 
enough  to  see,  beneath  the  man's  rough  exterior,  all 
that  was  fine  and  lovable,  and  she  treated  him  with  a 
jolly,  friendly  manner  that  warmed  his  heart. 

One  day  she  and  Mrs.  Burke  went  over  to  call  on 
Jonathan,  and  found  him  sitting  in  the  woodshed  on 

137 


138  HEPSEY  BURKE 

a  tub  turned  bottom  upwards,  looking  very  forlorn 
and  disconsolate. 

"What's  the  matter,  Jonathan?  You  look  as  if 
you  had  committed  the  unpardonable  sin,"  Hepsey 
greeted  him. 

"No,  it  aint  me,"  Jonathan  replied;  "it's  Mary 
McGuire  that's  the  confounded  sinner  this  time." 

"Well,  what's  Mary  been  up  to  now?" 

"Mary  McGuire's  got  one  of  her  attacks  of  house- 
cleanin'  on,  and  I  tell  you  it's  a  bad  one.  Drat  the 
nuisance." 

"Why  Jonathan !    Don't  swear  like  that." 

"Well,  I  be  hanged  if  I  can  stand  this  sort  of  thing 
much  longer.  Mary,  she's  the  deuce  and  all,  when 
she  once  gets  started  house-cleanin'." 

"Oh  dear,"  Mrs,  Betty  sympathized.  "It's  a  both 
er,  isnt  it?  But  it  doesn't  take  so  long,  and  it  will 
soon  be  over,  wont  it?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  as  to  that,"  replied  Jonathan 
disconsolately.  "Mary  McGuire  seems  to  think  that 
the  whole  house  must  be  turned  wrong  side  out,  and 
every  bit  of  furniture  I've  got  deposited  in  the  front 
yard.  Now,  Mrs.  Betty,  you  just  look  over  there 
once.  There's  yards  and  yards  of  clothes-line  cov 
ered  with  carpets  and  rugs  and  curtains  I've  been  or 
dered  to  clean.  It's  somethin'  beyond  words.  The 


HOUSE-CLEANING  139 

whole  place  looks  as  if  there  was  goin'  to  be  an  auc 
tion,  or  a  rummage  sale,  or  as  if  we  had  moved  out 
'cause  the  house  was  afire.  Then  she  falls  to  with 
tubs  of  boilin'  hot  soap-suds,  until  it  fills  your  lungs, 
and  drips  off  the  ends  of  your  nose  and  your  fingers, 
and  smells  like  goodness  knows  what." 

"Jonathan!"  Hepsey  reproved. 

"Are  you  exaggerating  just  the  least  bit?"  echoed 
Betty. 

"No  ma'am,  I'm  not.  Words  can't  begin  to  tell 
the  tale  when  Mary  gets  the  fever  on.  I  thought  I 
noticed  symptoms  of  house-cleanin'  last  week.  Mary 
was  eyein'  things  round  the  house,  and  givin'  me  less 
and  less  to  eat,  and  lookin'  at  me  with  that  cold- 
storage  stare  of  hers  that  means  death  or  house-clean- 
in'." 

"But,  Mr.  Jackson,"  Betty  pleaded,  "your  house 
has  to  be  cleaned  sometimes,  you  know." 

"Sure  thing,"  Jonathan  replied.  "But  there's  alto 
gether  too  much  of  this  house-cleanin'  business  goin' 
on  to  suit  me.  I  don't  see  any  dirt  anywheres." 

"That's  because  you  are  a  man,"  Hepsey  retorted. 
"Men  never  see  dirt  until  they  have  to  take  a  shovel 
to  it." 

Jonathan  sighed  hopelessly.  "What's  the  use  of 
bein'  a  widower,"  he  continued,  "if  you  can't  even 


140  HEPSEY  BURKE 

have  your  own  way  in  your  own  house,  I'd  just  like  to 
know  ?  I  have  to  eat  odds  and  ends  of  cold  victuals 
out  here  in  the  woodshed,  or  anywhere  Mary  Mc- 
Guire  happens  to  drop  'em." 

;That's  tough  luck,  Mr.  Jackson.  You  just  come 
over  to  dinner  with  Donald  and  me  and  have  a  square 
meal." 

"I'd  like  to  awful  well,  Mrs.  Maxwell,  but  I 
dasn't :  if  I  didn't  camp  out  and  eat  her  cold  victuals 
she'd  laid  out  for  me,  it'd  spoil  the  pleasure  of  house- 
cleanin'  for  her.  'Taint  as  though  it  was  done  with 
when  she's  finished,  neither.  After  it's  all  over,  and 
things  are  set  to  rights,  they're  all  wrong.  Some 
shades  wont  roll  up.  Some  wont  roll  down;  why, 
I've  undressed  in  the  dark  before  now,  since  one  of 
'em  suddenly  started  rollin'  up  on  me  before  I'd  got 
into  bed,  and  scared  the  wits  out  of  me.  She'll  be 
askin'  me  to  let  her  give  the  furnace  a  sponge  bath 
next.  I  believe  she'd  use  tooth-powder  on  the  inside 
of  a  boiled  egg,  if  she  only  knew  how.  This  house- 
cleanin'  racket  is  all  dum  nonsense,  anyhow." 

"Why  Jonathan!  Don't  swear  like  that,"  Betty 
exclaimed  laughing;  "Mr.  Maxwell's  coming." 

"I  said  d-u-m,  Mrs.  Betty;  I  never  say  nothin' 
worse  than  that — 'cept  when  I  lose  my  temper,"  he 
added,  safely,  examining  first  the  hone  and  then  the 


HOUSE-CLEANING  141 

edge  of  the  scythe,  as  if  intending  to  sharpen  it. 

Hepsey  had  gone  into  the  house  to  inspect  for  her 
self  the  thoroughness  of  Mary  McGuire's  opera 
tions;  Betty  thought  the  opportunity  favorable  for 
certain  counsels. 

"The  trouble  with  you  is  you  shouldn't  be  living 
alone,  like  this,  Jonathan.  You  have  all  the  disad 
vantages  of  a  house,  and  none  of  the  pleasures  of  a 
home." 

"Yes,"  he  responded,  yawning,  "it's  true  enough; 
but  I  aint  a  chicken  no  more,  Mrs.  Betty,  and  I've 
'most  forgot  how  to  do  a  bit  of  courtin'.  What  with 
cleanin'  up,  and  puttin'  on  your  Sunday  clothes,  and 
goin'  to  the  barber's,  and  gettin'  a  good  ready,  it's  a 
considerable  effort  for  an  old  man  like  me." 

"People  don't  want  to  see  your  clothes;  they  want 
to  see  you.  If  you  feel  obliged  to,  you  can  send  your 
Sunday  clothes  around  some  day  and  let  her  look  at 
them  once  for  all.  Keeping  young  is  largely  a  matter 
of  looking  after  your  digestion  and  getting  plenty  of 
sleep.  Its  all  foolishness  for  you  to  talk  about  grow 
ing  old.  Why,  you  are  in  the  prime  of  life." 

"Hm!  Yes.  And  why  don't  you  tell  me  that  I 
look  real  handsome,  and  that  the  girls  are  all  crazy 
for  me.  You're  an  awful  jollier,  Mrs.  Betty,  though 
I'll  admit  that  a  little  jollyin'  does  me  a  powerful  lot 


142  HEPSEY  BURKE 

of  good  now  and  then.  I  sometimes  like  to  believe 
things  I  know  to  a  certainty  'aint  true,  if  they  make 
me  feel  good." 

For  a  moment  Betty  kept  silent,  gazing  into  the 
kindly  face,  and  then  the  instinct  of  match-making 
asserted  itself  too  strongly  to  be  resisted. 

"There's  no  sense  in  your  being  a  lonesome  wid 
ower.  Why  don't  you  get  married?  I  mean  it." 

For  a  moment  Jonathan  was  too  astounded  at  the 
audacity  of  the  serious  suggestion  to  reply;  but  when 
he  recovered  his  breath  he  exclaimed: 

"Well,  I  swan  to  man!  What  will  you  ask  me  to 
be  doin'  next?" 

"Oh,  I  mean  it,  all  right,"  persisted  Mrs.  Betty. 
"Here  you've  got  a  nice  home  for  a  wife,  and  I  tell 
you  you  need  the  happiness  of  a  real  home.  You  will 
live  a  whole  lot  longer  if  you  have  somebody  to  love 
and  look  after;  and  if  you  want  to  know  what  you 
will  be  asking  me  to  do  next,  I  will  wager  a  box  of 
candy  it  will  be  to  come  to  your  wedding." 

"Make  it  cigars,  Mrs.  Betty;  I'm  not  much  on 
candy.  Maybe  you're  up  to  tellin'  me  who'll  have  *• 
me.  I  haven't  noticed  any  females  makin'  advances 
towards  me  in  some  time  now.  The  only  woman  I 
see  every  day  is  Mary  McGuire,  and  she'd  make  a 
pan-cake  griddle  have  the  blues  if  she  looked  at  it." 


HOUSE-CLEANING  143 

Mrs.  Betty  grasped  her  elbow  with  one  hand,  and 
putting  the  first  finger  of  the  other  hand  along  the 
side  of  her  little  nose,  whispered: 

"What's  the  matter  with  Mrs.  Burke?" 

Jonathan  deliberately  pulled  a  hair  from  his  small 
remaining  crop  and  cut  it  with  the  scythe,  as  if  he 
had  not  heard  Betty's  impertinent  suggestion.  But 
fiinally  he  replied: 

"There's  nothin'  the  matter  with  Mrs.  Burke  that 
I  know  of;  but  that's  no  reason  why  she  should  be 
wantin'  to  marry  me." 

"She  thinks  a  great  deal  of  you;  I  know  she  does." 

"How  do  you  know  she  does?" 

"Well,  I  heard  her  say  something  very  nice  about 
you  yesterday." 

"Hm!    Did  you?    What  was  it?" 

"She  said  that  you  were  the  most — the  most  eco 
nomical  man  she  ever  met." 

"Sure  she  didn't  say  I  was  tighter  than  the  bark  on 
a  tree?  I  guess  I  aint  buyin'  no  weddin'  ring  on  the 
strength  of  that.  Now,  Mrs.  Betty,  you  just  try 
again.  I  guess  you're  fooling  me  I" 

"Oh  no,  really  I'm  not.  I  never  was  more  serious 
in  my  life.  I  mean  just  what  I  say.  I  know  Mrs. 
Burke  really  thinks  a  very  great  deal  of  you,  and  if 
you  like  her,  you  ought  to  propose  to  her.  Every 


144  HEPSEY  BURKE 

moment  a  man  remains  single  is  an  outrageous  waste 
of  time." 

Jonathan  grinned  as  he  retorted: 

"Well,  no  man  would  waste  any  time  if  all  the  girls 
were  like  you.  They'd  all  be  comin'  early  to  avoid 
the  rush.  Is  Mrs.  Burke  employin'  your  services  as 
a  matrimonial  agent?  Maybe  you  wont  mind  tellin' 
me  what  you're  to  get  if  the  deal  pulls  off.  Is  there 
a  rake-off  anywheres?" 

Betty  laughed,  and  Jonathan  was  silent  for  a  while, 
squinting  at  the  scythe-edge,  first  from  one  angle, 
then  from  another,  and  tentatively  raising  the  hone 
as  if  to  start  sharpening. 

"Well,  Mrs.  Betty,"  he  said  presently,  "seein'  I 
can't  possibly  marry  you,  I  don't  mind  tellin'  you  that 
I  think  the  next  best  thing  would  be  to  marry  Hepsey 
Burke.  She's  been  a  mighty  good  friend  and  neigh 
bor  ever  since  my  wife  died;  but  she  wouldn't  look 
at  the  likes  of  me.  'Twouldn't  be  the  least  use  of 
proposin'  to  her." 

"How  do  you  know  it  wouldn't?  You  are  not 
afraid  of  proposing,  are  you?" 

"No,  of  course  not;  but  I  can't  run  over  and  pro 
pose,  as  I  would  ask  her  to  lend  me  some  clothes 
line.  That'd  be  too  sudden ;  and  courtin'  takes  a  lot 
of  time  and  trouble.  I  guess  I  'most  forgot  how  by 


HOUSE-CLEANING  145 

this  time ;  and  then,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  always  was 
a  bit  shy.  It  took  me  near  onto  five  years  to  work 
myself  up  to  the  sticking  point  when  I  proposed  to  my 
first  wife." 

"Well,  now  that's  easy  enough;  Mrs.  Burke  usu 
ally  sits  on  the  side  porch  after  supper  with  her  knit 
ting.  Why  don't  you  drop  over  occasionally,  and  ap 
proach  the  matter  gradually?  It  wouldn't  take  long 
to  work  up  to  the  point." 

"But  how  shall  I  begin?  I  guess  you'll  have  to 
give  me  lessons." 

"Oh,  make  her  think  you  are  very  lonely.  Pity  is 
akin  to  love,  you  know." 

"But  she  knows  well  enough  I'm  mighty  lonely  at 
times.  That  wont  do." 

"Then  make  her  think  that  you  are  a  regular  dare 
devil,  and  are  going  to  the  bad.  Maybe  she'll  marry 
you  to  save  you." 

"Me,  goin'  to  the  bad  at  my  age,  and  the  Junior 
Warden  of  the  church,  too.  What  are  you  thinkin' 
of?" 

"It  is  never  too  late  to  mend,  you  know.  You 
might  try  being  a  little  frisky,  and  see  what  happens." 

"Oh,  I  know  what  would  happen  all  right.  She'd 
be  over  here  in  two  jerks  of  a  lamb's  tail,  and  read 
'the  riot  act,  and  scare  me  out  of  a  year's  growth. 


146  HEPSEY  BURKE 

Hepsey's  not  a  little  thing  to  be  playin'  with." 

"Well,  you  just  make  a  start.  Anything  to  make 
a  start,  and  the  rest  will  come  easy." 

"My,  how  the  neighbors'd  talk!" 

"Talk  is  cheap;  and  besides,  in  a  quiet  place  like 
this  it's  a  positive  duty  to  afford  your  neighbors  some 
diversion;  you  ought  to  be  thankful.  You'll  become 
a  public  benefactor.  Now  will  you  go  ahead?" 

"Mrs.  Betty,  worry's  bad  for  the  nerves,  and's  apt 
to  produce  insomny  and  neurastheny.  But  I'll  think 
it  over — yes,  I  will — I'll  think  it  over." 

Whereupon  he  suddenly  began  to  whet  his  scythe 
with  such  vim  as  positively  startled  Betty. 


IB 


THE  Maxwells  were,  in  fact,  effectively  stirring 
up  the  ambitions  of  their  flock,  routing  the 
older  members  out  of  a  too  easy-going  accept 
ance  of  things-as-they-are,  and  giving  to  the  younger 
ones  vistas  of  a  life    imbued  with    more  color    and 
variety  than  had  hitherto  entered  their  consciousness. 
And  yet  it  happened  at  Durford,  on  occasion,  that 
this  awakening  of  new  talents  and  individuality  pro 
duced  unlooked  for  complications. 

"Oh  yes,"  Hepsey    remarked    one  day  to    Mrs. 
H7 


i48  HEPSEY  BURKE 

Betty,  when  the  subject  of  conversation  had  turned  to 
Mrs.  Burke's  son  and  heir,  "Nickey  means  to  be  a 
good  boy,  but  he's  as  restless  as  a  kitten  on  a  hot 
Johnny-cake.  He  isn't  a  bit  vicious,  but  he  do  run 
his  heels  down  at  the  corners,  and  he's  awful  wearin' 
on  his  pants-bottoms  and  keeps  me  patchin'  and  mend- 
in'  most  of  the  time — 'contributing  to  the  end  in  view/ 
as  Abraham  Lincoln  said.  But,  woman-like,  I  guess 
he  finds  the  warmest  spot  in  my  heart  when  I'm  doin' 
some  sort  of  repairin'  on  him  or  his  clothes.  It  would 
be  easier  if  his  intentions  wasn't  so  good,  'cause  I 
could  spank  him  with  a  clear  conscience  if  he  was 
vicious.  But  after  all,  Nickey  seems  to  have  a  winnin1 
way  about  him.  He  knows  every  farmer  within  three 
miles;  he'll  stop  any  team  he  meets,  climb  into  the 
wagon  seat,  take  the  reins,  and  enjoy  himself  to  his 
heart's  content.  All  the  men  seem  to  like  him  and 
give  in  to  him;  more's  the  pity!  And  he  seems  to 
just  naturally  lead  the  other  kids  in  their  games  and 
mischief." 

"Oh  well,  I  wouldn't  give  a  cent  for  a  boy  who 
didn't  get  into  mischief  sometimes,"  consoled  Mrs. 
Betty. 

At  which  valuation  Nickey  was  then  in  process  of 
putting  himself  and  his  young  friends  at  a  premium. 
For,  about  this  time,  in  their  efforts  to  amuse  them- 


THE  CIRCUS  149 

selves,  Nickey  and  some  of  his  friends  constructed  a 
circus  ring  back  of  the  barn.  After  organizing  a 
stock  company  and  conducting  several  rehearsals,  the 
rest  of  the  boys  in  the  neighborhood  were  invited  to 
form  an  audience,  and  take  seats  which  had  been  re 
served  for  them  without  extra  charge  on  an  adjoining 
lumber  pile.  Besides  the  regular  artists  there  were  a 
number  of  specialists  or  "freaks,"  who  added  much 
to  the  interest  and  excitement  of  the  show. 

For  example,  Sam  Cooley,  attired  in  one  of  Mrs. 
Burke's  discarded  underskirts,  filched  from  the  rag 
bag,  with  some  dried  cornstalk  gummed  on  his  face, 
impersonated  the  famous  Bearded  Lady  from  Ho- 
boken. 

Billy  Burns,  wearing  a  very  hot  and  stuffy  pillow 
buttoned  under  his  coat  and  thrust  down  into  his 
trousers,  represented  the  world-renowned  Fat  Man 
from  Spoonville.  His  was  rather  a  difficult  role  to 
fill  gracefully,  because  the  squashy  pillow  would  per 
sist  in  bulging  out  between  his  trousers  and  his  coat 
in  a  most  indecent  manner;  and  it  kept  him  busy  most 
of  the  time  tucking  it  in. 

Dimple  Perkins  took  the  part  of  the  Snake  Charm-* 
er  from  Brooklyn,  and  at  intervals  wrestled  fearlessly 
with  a  short  piece  of  garden  hose  which  was  labeled 
on  the  bills  as  an  "Anna  Condy."  This  he  wound 


150  HEPSEY  BURKE 

around  his  neck  in  the  most  reckless  manner  possible ; 
it  was  quite  enough  to  make  one's  blood  run  cold  to 
watch  him. 

The  King  of  the  Cannibal  Islands  was  draped  in 
a  buffalo  robe,  with  a  gilt  paper  crown  adorning  his 
head,  and  a  very  suggestive  mutton-bone  in  his  hand. 

Poor  little  Herman  Amdursky  was  selected  for  the 
Living  Skeleton,  because  of  the  spindle-like  character 
of  his  nethermost  limbs.  He  had  to  remove  his 
trousers  and  his  coat,  and  submit  to  having  his  ribs 
wound  with  yards  of  torn  sheeting,  in  order  that  what 
little  flesh  he  had  might  be  compressed  to  the  small 
est  possible  compass.  The  result  was  astonishingly 
satisfactory. 

The  Wild  Man  from  Borneo  wore  his  clothes  wrong 
side  out,  as  it  is  well  known  wild  men  from  Borneo 
always  do;  and  he  ate  grass  with  avidity.  Wry- 
mouthed  and  squint-eyed,  he  was  the  incarnation  of 
the  cubist  ideal. 

When  all  this  splendid  array  of  talent  issued  from 
the  dressing-room  and  marched  triumphantly  around 
the  ring,  it  was  indeed  a  proud  moment  in  the  annals 
of  Durford,  and  the  applause  from  the  lumber  pile 
could  be  heard  at  least  two  blocks. 

After  the  procession,  the  entertainment  proper  con 
sisted  of  some  high  and  lofty  tumbling,  the  various 


THE  CIRCUS  151 

"turns"  of  the  respective  stars,  and  then,  last  of  all, 
as  a  grand  finale,  Charley,  the  old  raw-boned  farm 
horse  who  had  been  retired  on  a  pension  for  at  least 
a  year,  was  led  triumphantly  into  the  ring,  with  Nick- 
ey  Burke  standing  on  his  back! 

Charley,  whose  melancholy  aspect  was  a  trifle  more 
abject  than  usual,  and  steps  more  halting,  meekly  fol 
lowed  the  procession  of  actors  around  the  ring,  led 
by  Dimple,  the  Snake  Charmer.  Nickey's  entree  cre 
ated  a  most  profound  sensation,  and  was  greeted  with 
tumultuous  applause — a  tribute  both  to  his  equestrian 
feat  and  to  his  costume. 

Nickey  had  once  attended  a  circus  at  which  he  had 
been  greatly  impressed  by  the  artistic  decorations  on 
the  skin  of  a  tattooed  man,  and  by  the  skill  of  the 
bareback  rider  who  had  turned  somersaults  while  the 
horse  was  in  motion.  It  occurred  to  him  that  perhaps 
he  might  present  somewhat  of  both  these  attractions, 
in  one  character. 

Maxwell  had  innocently  stimulated  this  taste  by 
lending  him  a  book  illustrated  with  lurid  color-plates 
of  Indians  in  full  war  paint,  according  to  tribe. 

So  Nickey  removed  his  clothes,  attired  himself  in 
abbreviated  red  swimming  trunks,  and  submitted  to 
the  artistic  efforts  of  Dimple,  who  painted  most  intri 
cate,  elaborate,  and  beautiful  designs  on  Nickey's  per- 


152  HEPSEY  BURKE 

son,  with  a  thick  solution  of  indigo  purloined  from 
the  laundry. 

Nickey's  breast  was  adorned  with  a  picture  of  a 
ship  under  full  sail.  On  his  back  was  a  large  heart 
pierced  with  two  arrows.  A  vine  of  full  blown  roses 
twined  around  each  arm,  while  his  legs  were  powdered 
with  stars,  periods,  dashes,  and  exclamation  points  in 
rich  profusion.  A  triangle  was  painted  on  each  cheek, 
and  dabs  of  indigo  were  added  to  the  end  of  his  nose 
and  to  the  lobe  of  each  ear  by  way  of  finishing  touches. 

When  the  work  was  complete,  Nickey  surveyed 
himself  in  a  piece  of  broken  mirror  in  the  dressing- 
room,  and  to  tell  the  truth,  was  somewhat  appalled 
at  his  appearance;  but  Dimple  Perkins  hastened  to 
assure  hm,  saying  that  a  dip  in  the  river  would  easily 
remove  the  indigo;  and  that  he  was  the  living  spit  and 
image  of  a  tattooed  man,  and  that  his  appearance, 
posed  on  the  back  of  Charley,  would  certainly  bring 
the  house  down. 

Dimple  proved  to  be  quite  justified  in  his  statement, 
so  far  as  the  effect  on  the  audience  was  concerned; 
for,  as  Nickey  entered  the  ring,  after  one  moment  of 
breathless  astonishment,  the  entire  crowd  arose  as 
one  man  and  cheered  itself  hoarse,  in  a  frenzy  of 
frantic  delight.  Now  whether  Charley  was  enthused 
by  the  applause,  or  whether  the  situation  reminded 


THE  CIRCUS  153 

him  of  some  festive  horseplay  of  his  youth,  one  can 
not  tell.  At  any  rate,  what  little  life  was  left  in  Char 
ley's  blood  asserted  itself.  Quickly  jerking  the  rope 
of  the  halter  from  the  astonished  hand  of  Dimple 
Perkins,  Charley  turned  briskly  round,  and  trotted 
out  of  the  yard  and  into  the  road,  while  Nickey,  who 
had  found  himself  suddenly  astride  Charley's  back, 
made  frantic  efforts  to  stop  him. 

As  Charley  emerged  from  the  gate,  the  freaks,  the 
regular  artists,  the  gymnasts,  and  the  entire  audience 
followed,  trailing  along  behind  the  mounted  tattooed 
man,  and  shouting  themselves  hoarse  with  encourage 
ment  or  derision. 

As  Charley  rose  to  the  occasion  and  quickened  his 
pace,  the  heat  of  the  sun,  the  violent  exercise  of  rid 
ing  bareback,  and  the  nervous  excitement  produced  by 
the  horror  of  the  situation,  threw  Nickey  into  a  pro 
fuse  sweat.  The  bluing  began  to  run.  The  decora 
tions  on  his  forehead  trickled  down  into  his  eyes ;  and 
as  he  tried  to  rub  off  the  moisture  with  the  back  of 
his  hand  the  indigo  was  smeared  liberally  over  his 
face.  His  personal  identity  was  hopelessly  obscured 
in  the  indigo  smudge;  and  the  most  vivid  imagination 
could  not  conjecture  what  had  happened  to  the  boy. 
It  was  by  no  means  an  easy  feat  to  retain  his  seat  on 
Charley's  back;  it  would  have  been  still  more  difficult 


154  HEPSEY  BURKE 

to  dismount,  at  his  steed's  brisk  pace;  and  Nickey 
was  most  painfully  conscious  of  his  attire,  as  Charley 
turned  up  the  road  which  led  straight  to  the  village. 
At  each  corner  the  procession  was  reinforced  by  a 
number  of  village  boys  who  added  their  quota  to  the 
general  uproar  and  varied  the  monotony  of  the  pro 
ceeding  by  occasionally  throwing  a  tin  can  at  the  rider 
on  the  white  horse.  When  Charley  passed  the  rec 
tory,  and  the  green,  and  turned  into  Church  Street, 
Nickey  felt  that  he  had  struck  rock  bottom  of  shame 
ful  humiliation. 

For  many  years  it  had  been  Charley's  habit  to  take 
Mrs.  Burke  down  to  church  on  Wednesday  after 
noons  for  the  five  o'clock  service;  and  although  he 
had  been  out  of  commission  and  docked  for  repairs 
for  some  time,  his  sublimal  self  must  have  got  in  its 
work,  and  the  old  habit  asserted  itself :  to  the  church 
he  went,  attended  at  a  respectful  distance  by  the 
Bearded  Lady,  the  Fat  Man,  the  Snake  Charmer,  the 
King  of  the  Cannibal  Islands,  the  Living  Skeleton, 
and  the  Wild  Man  from  Borneo,  to  say  nothing  of  a 
large  and  effective  chorus  of  roaring  villagers  bring 
ing  up  the  rear. 

It  really  was  quite  clever  of  Charley  to  recall  that, 
this  being  Wednesday,  it  was  the  proper  day  to  visit 
the  church, — as  clever  as  it  was  disturbing  to  Nickey 


THE  CIRCUS  155 

when  he,  too,  recalled  that  it  was  about  time  for  the 
service  to  be  over,  and  that  his  mother  must  be  some 
where  on  the  premises,  to  say  nothing  of  the  assem 
bled  mothers  of  the  entire  stock  company — and  the 
rector,  and  the  rector's  wife. 

Mrs.  Burke,  poor  woman,  was  quite  unconscious  of 
what  awaited  her,  as  she  emerged  from  the  service 
with  the  rest  of  the  congregation.  It  was  an  amazed 
parent  that  caught  sight  of  her  son  and  heir  scram 
bling  off  the  back  of  his  steed  onto  the  horse-block  in 
front  of  the  church,  clad  in  short  swimming  trunks 
and  much  bluing.  The  freaks,  the  regular  artists, 
the  gymnasts,  and  the  circus  audience  generally 
shrieked  and  howled  and  fought  each  other,  in  frantic 
effort  to  succeed  to  Nickey's  place  on  Charley's  back 
— for  Charley  now  stood  undismayed  and  immovable, 
with  a  gentle,  pious  look  in  his  soft  old  eyes. 

For  one  instant,  Mrs.  Burke  and  her  frends  stood 
paralyzed  with  horror;  and  then  like  the  good  moth 
ers  in  Israel  that  they  were,  each  jumped  to  the  rescue 
of  her  own  particular  darling — that  is,  as  soon  as 
she  could  identify  him.  Consternation  reigned  su 
preme.  Mrs.  Cooley  caught  the  Bearded  Lady  by 
the  arm  and  shook  him  fiercely,  just  as  he  was  about 
to  land  an  uppercut  on  the  jaw  of  the  King  of  the 
Cannibal  Islands.  Mrs.  Burns  found  her  offspring, 


156  HEPSEY  BURKE 

the  Fat  Man,  lying  dispossessed  on  his  back  in  the 
gutter,  while  Sime  Wilkins,  the  Man  Who  Ate  Glass, 
sat  comfortably  on  his  stomach.  Sime  immediately 
apologized  to  Mrs.  Burns  and  disappeared.  Next, 
Mrs.  Perkins  took  the  Snake  Charmer  by  his  collar, 
and  rapped  him  soundly  with  the  piece  of  garden  hose 
which  she  captured  as  he  was  using  it  to  chastise  the 
predatory  Wild  Man  from  Borneo.  Other  members 
of  the  company  received  equally  unlooked-for  censure 
of  their  dramatic  efforts. 

Nickey,  meantime,  had  fled  to  the  pump  behind  the 
church,  where  he  made  his  ablutions  as  best  he  could; 
then,  seeing  the  vestry  room  door  ajar,  he,  in  his  ex 
tremity,  bolted  for  the  quiet  seclusion  of  the  sanctu 
ary. 

To  his  surprise  and  horror,  he  found  Maxwell  seat 
ed  at  a  table  looking  over  the  parish  records;  and 
when  Nickey  appeared,  still  rather  blue,  attired  in 
short  red  trunks,  otherwise  unadorned,  Donald  gazed 
at  him  in  mute  astonishment.  For  one  moment  there 
was  silence  as  they  eyed  each  other;  and  then  Max 
well  burst  into  roars  of  uncontrollable  laughter,  which 
were  not  quite  subdued  as  Nickey  gave  a  rather  in 
coherent  account  of  the  misfortune  which  had  brought 
him  to  such  a  predicament. 

"So  you  were  the  Tattooed  Man,  were  you !    Well, 


THE  CIRCUS  157- 

I  suppose  you  know  that  it's  not  generally  customary 
to  appear  in  church  in  red  tights ;  but  as  you  couldn't 
help  it,  I  shall  have  to  see  what  can  be  done  for  you, 
to  get  you  home  clothed  and  in  your  right  mind.  I'll 
tell  you !  You  can  put  on  one  of  the  choir  boy's 
cassocks,  and  skip  home  the  back  way.  If  anybody 
stops  you  tell  them  you  were  practising  for  the  choir, 
and  it  will  be  all  right.  But  really,  Nickey,  if  I  were 
in  your  place,  the  next  time  I  posed  as  a  mounted 
Tattooed  Man,  I'd  be  careful  to  choose  some  old 
quadruped  that  couldn't  run  away  with  you !" 

"Then  you  aren't  mad  at  me !" 

"Certainly  not.  I'll  leave  that  to  my  betters !  You 
just  get  home  as  fast  as  you  can." 

"Gee!  but  you're  white  all  right — you  know  it 
didn't  say  nothing  in  the  book,  about  what  kind  of 
paint  to  use!" 

Maxwell's  eyes  opened.  "What  book  are  you 
talking  about,  Nickey?"  he  asked. 

"The  one  you  let  me  take,  with  the  Indians  in  it." 

Maxwell  had  to  laugh  again.  "So  that's  where  the 
idea  for  this  'Carnival  of  Wild  West  Sports'  origi 
nated,  eh?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  Nickey  nodded.  "Everybody  wanted 
to  be  the  tattooed  man,  but  seeing  as  I  had  the  book, 
and  old  Charley  was  my  horse,  I  couldn't  see  any 


158  HEPSEY  BURKE 

good  reason  why  I  shouldn't  get  tattooed.  Gee !  I'll 
bet  ma  will  be  mad!" 

After  being  properly  vested  in  a  cassock  two  sizes 
too  large  for  him,  Nickey  started  on  a  dead  run  for 
home,  and,  having  reached  the  barn,  dressed  himself 
in  his  customary  attire.  When  he  appeared  at  sup 
per  Mrs.  Burke  did  not  say  anything;  but  after  the 
dishes  were  washed  she  took  him  apart  and  listened 
to  his  version  of  the  affair. 

"Nicholas  Burke,"  she  said,  "if  this  thing  occurs 
again  I  shall  punish  you  in  a  way  you  wont  like." 

"Well,  I'm  awfully  sorry,"  said  Nickey,  "but  it 
didn't  seem  to  feaze  Mr.  Maxwell  a  little  bit.  He 
just  sat  and  roared  as  if  he'd  split  his  sides.  I  guess 
I  aint  goin'  to  be  put  out  of  the  church  just  yet,  any 
way." 

Mrs.  Burke  looked  a  bit  annoyed. 

"Never  mind  about  Mr.  Maxwell.  You  wont 
laugh  if  anything  like  this  occurs  again,  I  can  tell 
you,"  she  replied. 

"Now,  ma,"  soothed  Nickey,  "don't  you  worry 
about  it  occurrin'  again.  You  don't  suppose  I  did 
it  on  purpose,  do  you  ?  Gosh  no  !  I  wouldn't  get  onto 
Charley's  back  again,  with  my  clothes  off,  any  more 
than  I'd  sit  on  a  hornet's  nest.  How'd  you  like  to 
ride  through  the  town  with  nothin'  on  but  your  swim- 


THE  CIRCUS  159 

mm'  trunks  and  drippin'  with  bluin  water,  I'd  like  to 
know?' 

Mrs.  Burke  did  not  care  to  prolong  the  interview 
any  further,  so  she  said  in  her  severest  tones : 

"Nicholas  Burke,  you  go  to  bed  instantly.  I've 
heard  enough  of  you  and  seen  enough  of  you,  for  one 
day." 

Nickey  went. 


lift 


CHAPTER  XIV 


Mil 

IN  the  evening,  after  his  work  was  done,  a  day  or 
two  after  his  talk  with  Mrs.  Maxwell,  Jona 
than  went  into  the  house  and  took  a  long  look 
at  himself  in  the  glass,  with  the  satisfactory  conclu 
sion  that  he  didn't  look  so  old  after  all.  Why  shouldn't 
he  take  Mrs.  Betty's  advice  and  marry?    To  be  sure, 
there  was  no  fool  like  an  old  fool,  but  no  man  could 
be  called  a  fool  who  was  discrimnating  enough,  and 
resourceful  enough,  to  win  the  hand  of  Hepsey  Burke. 
To  his  certain  knowledge  she  had  had  plenty  of  eligi- 

160 


ON  THE  SIDE  PORCH  161 

ble  suitors  since  her  husband's  death.  She  was  the 
acknowledged  past-master  of  doughnuts;  and  her 
pickled  cucumbers  done  in  salad  oil  were  dreams  of 
delight.  What  more  could  a  man  want? 

So  he  found  that  the  question  was  deciding  itself 
apparently  without  any  volition  whatever  on  his  part. 
His  fate  was  sealed;  he  had  lost  his  heart  and  his 
appetite  to  his  neighbor.  Having  come  to  this  con 
clusion,  it  was  wonderful  how  the  thought  excited 
him.  He  took  a  bath  and  changed  his  clothes,  and 
then  proceeded  to  town  and  bought  himself  a  white 
neck-tie,  and  a  scarf-pin  that  cost  seventy-five  cents. 
He  was  going  to  do  the  thing  in  the  proper  way  if  he 
did  it  at  all. 

After  supper  he  mustered  sufficient  courage  to  pre 
sent  himself  at  the  side  porch  where  Mrs.  Burke  was 
knitting  on  a  scarlet  sweater  for  Nickey. 

"Good  evenin',  Hepsey,"  he  began.  "How  are  you 
feelin'  to-night?" 

"Oh,  not  so  frisky  as  I  might,  Jonathan;  I'd  be 
all  right  if  it  weren't  for  my  rheumatiz." 

"Well,  we  all  have  our  troubles,  Hepsey;  and  if 
it  isn't  one  thing  it's  most  generally  another.  You 
mustn't  rebel  against  rheumatiz.  It's  one  of  those 
things  sent  to  make  us  better,  and  we  must  bear  up 
against  it,  you  know." 


1 62  HEPSEY  BURKE 

Hepsey  did  not  respond  to  this  philosophy,  and 
Jonathan  felt  that  it  was  high  time  that  he  got  down 
to  business.  So  he  began  again: 

"It  seems  to  me  as  if  we  might  have  rain  before 
long  if  the  wind  don't  change." 

"Shouldn't  be  surprised,  Jonathan.  One — two — • 
three — four — "  Mrs.  Burke  replied,  her  attention  di 
vided  between  her  visitor  and  her  sweater.  "Got  your 
hay  all  in?" 

"Yes,  most  of  it.  'Twon't  be  long  before  the  long 
fall  evenin's  will  be  comin'  on,  and  I  kinder  dread 
'em.  They're  awful  lonesome,  Hepsey." 

"Purl  two,  knit  two,  an  inch  and  a  half—  '  Mrs. 
Burke  muttered  to  herself  as  she  read  the  printed 
directions  which  lay  in  her  lap,  and  then  she  added 
encouragingly : 

"So  you  get  lonesome,  do  you,  Jonathan,  durin' 
the  long  evenin's,  when  it  gets  dark  early." 

"Oh,  awful  lonesome,"  Jonathan  responded. 
"Don't  you  ever  get  lonesome  yourself,  Hep 
sey?" 

"I  can't  say  as  it  kept  me  awake  nights.  'Tisn't 
bein'  alone  that  makes  you  lonesome.  The  most  aw 
ful  lonesomeness  in  the  world  is  bein'  in  a  crowd 
that's  not  your  kind." 

"That's  so,  Hepsey.    But  two  isn't  a  crowd.  Don't 


QN  THE  SIDE  PORCH  163 

you  think  you'd  like  to  get  married,  if  you  had  a  right 
good  chance,  now?" 

Hepsey  gave  her  visitor  a  quick,  sharp  glance,  and 
inquired: 

"What  would  you  consider  a  right  good  chance, 
Jonathan?" 

"Oh,  suppose  that  some  respectable  widower  with 
a  tidy  sum  in  the  bank  should  ask  you  to  marry  him ; 
what  would  you  say,  Hepsey?" 

"Can't  say  until  I'd  seen  the  widower,  to  say  nothin' 
of  the  bank  book — one,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six — " 

Jonathan  felt  that  the  crisis  was  now  approaching; 
so,  moving  his  chair  a  little  nearer,  he  resumed  ex 
citedly  : 

"You've  seen  him,  Hepsey;  you've  seen  him  lots  of 
times,  and  he  don't  live  a  thousand  miles  away, 
neither." 

"Hm !  Must  be  he  lives  in  Martin's  Junction.  Is 
he  good  lookin',  Jonathan?" 

"Oh,  fair  to  middlin.'  That  is — of  course — I  well 
— I — I  should  think  he  was ;  but  tastes  differ." 

"Well,  you  know  I'm  right  particular,  Jonathan. 
Is  he  real  smart  and  clever?" 

"I  don't  know  as — I  ought  to — to — say,  Hepsey; 
but  I  rather  guess  he  knows  enough  to  go  in  when  it 


rains." 


1 64  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"That's  good  as  far  as  it  goes.  The  next  time 
you  see  him,  you  tell  him  to  call  around  and  let  me 
look  him  over.  Maybe  I  could  give  him  a  job  on 
the  farm,  even  if  I  didn't  want  to  marry  him." 

"But  he  doesn't  want  any  job  on  the  farm,  Hep- 
sey.  He  just  wants  you,  that's  all." 

"How  do  you  know  he  does?  Did  he  ever  tell 
you?" 

"Hepsey  Burke,  don't  you  know  who  I'm  alludin' 
at?  Haven't  you  ever  suspected  nothin'?" 

"Yes,  I've  suspected  lots  of  things.  Now  there's 
Jack  Dempsey.  I've  suspected  him  waterin'  the  milk 
for  some  time.  Haven't  you  ever  suspected  anythin' 
yourself,  Jonathan?" 

"Well,  I  guess  I'm  suspectin'  that  you're  tryin'  to 
make  a  fool  of  me,  all  right." 

"Oh  no!  Fools  come  ready-made,  and  there's  a 
glut  in  the  market  just  now;  seven — eight — nine — 
ten;  no  use  makin'  more  until  the  supply's  exhausted. 
But  what  made  you  think  you  wanted  to  marry?  This 
is  so  powerful  sudden." 

Now  that  the  point  was  reached,  Jonathan  got  a 
little  nervous :  "To — to  tell  you  the  truth,  Hepsey," 
he  stuttered,  "I  was  in  doubt  about  it  myself  for  some 
time;  but  bein'  as  I  am  a  Christian  man  I  turned  to 
the  Bible  for  light  on  my  path." 


ON  THE  SIDE  PORCH  165; 

* 

"Hm  !    And  how  did  the  light  shine?" 

"Well,  I  just  shut  my  eyes  and  opened  my  Bible 
at  random,  and  put  my  finger  on  a  text.  Then  I 
opened  my  eyes  and  read  what  was  written." 

"Yes!    What  did  you  find?" 

"I  read  somethin'  about  'not  a  man  of  them  es 
caped  save  six  hundred  that  rode  away  on  camels.'  ' 

"Did  that  clear  up  all  your  difficulties?" 

"No,  can't  say  as  it  did.  But  those  words  about 
'no  man  escapin'  '  seemed  to  point  towards  matri 
mony  as  far  as  they  went.  Then  I  tried  a  second 
time." 

"Oh  did  you?  I  should  think  that  six  hundred 
camels  would  be  enough  for  one  round-up.  What 
luck  did  you  have  the  second  time?" 

"Well,  I  read,  'Moab  is  my  wash  pot,  over  Edom 
will  I  cast  out  my  shoe.'  You've  seen  'em  cast  shoes 
at  the  carriages  of  brides  and  grooms,  haven't  you, 
Hepsey?  Just  for  luck,  you  know.  So  it  seemed  to 
point  towards  matrimony  again." 

"Say,  Jonathan,  you  certainly  have  a  wonderful 
gift  for  interpretin'  Scripture." 

"Well,  Scripture  or  no  Scripture,  I  want  you,  Hep 
sey." 

"Am  I  to  understand  that  you're  just  fadin'  and 
pinin'  away  for  love  of  me?  You  don't  look  thin." 


i66  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"Oh,  we  'aint  neither  of  us  as  young  as  we  once 
was,  Hepsey.  Of  course  I  can't  be  expected  to  pine 
real  hard." 

"I'm  afraid  it's  not  the  real  thing,  Jonathan,  un 
less  you  pine.  Don't  it  keep  you  awake  nights,  or 
take  away  your  appetite,  or  make  you  want  to  play 
the  banjo,  or  nothin'?" 

"No,  Hepsey;  to  tell  you  the  plain  truth,  it  don't. 
But  I  feel  awful  lonesome,  and  I  like  you  a  whole  lot, 
and  I — I  love  you  as  much  as  anyone,  I  guess." 

"So  you  are  in  love  are  you,  Jonathan.  Then  let 
me  give  you  some  good  advice.  When  you're  in  love, 
don't  believe  all  you  think,  or  half  you  feel,  or  any 
thing  at  all  you  are  perfectly  sure  of.  It's  dangerous 
business.  But  I  am  afraid  that  you're  askin'  me  be 
cause  it  makes  you  think  that  you  are  young  and 
giddy,  like  the  rest  of  the  village  boys,  to  be  proposin' 
to  a  shy  young  thing  like  me." 

"No,  Hepsey;  you  aren't  no  shy  young  thing,  and 
you  haven't  been  for  nigh  on  forty  years.  I  wouldn't 
be  proposin'  to  you  if  you  were." 

"Jonathan,  your  manners  need  mendin'  a  whole 
lot.  The  idea  of  insinuatin'  that  I  am  not  a  shy  young 
thing.  I'm  ashamed  of  you,  and  I'm  positive  we 
could  never  get  along  together." 

"But  I  can't  tell  a  lie  about  you,  even  if  I  do  want 


ON  THE  SIDE  PORCH  167 

to  marry  you.  You  don't  want  to  marry  a  liar,  do 
you?" 

"Well,  the  fact  is,  Jonathan,  polite  lyin's  the  real 
foundation  of  all  good  manners.  What  we'll  ever 
do  when  we  get  to  heaven  where  we  have  to  tell  the 
truth  whether  we  want  to  or  not,  I'm  sure  I  don't 
know.  It'll  be  awful  uncomfortable  until  we  get 
used  to  it." 

"The  law  says  you  should  tell  the  truth,  the  whole 
truth,  and  nothin'  but  the  truth,"  persisted  the  literal 
wooer. 

"Now,  see  here,  Jonathan.  Would  you  say  that  a 
dog's  tail  was  false  and  misleadin'  just  because  it 
isn't  the  whole  dog?" 

This  proposition  was  exceedingly  confusing  to  Jon 
athan's  intelligence,  but  after  careful  consideration 
he  felt  obliged  to  say  "No." 

"Of  course  you  wouldn't,"  Mrs.  Burke  continued 
triumphantly,  quickly  following  up  her  advantage. 
"You  see  a  dog's  tail  couldn't  be  misleading,  'cause 
the  dog  leads  the  tail,  and  not  the  tail  the  dog.  Any 
fool  could  see  that." 

Jonathan  felt  that  he  had  been  tricked,  although  he 
could  not  see  just  how  the  thing  had  been  accom 
plished;  so  he  began  again: 

"Now  Hepsey,  we're  wanderin'   from  the  point, 


1 68  HEPSEY  BURKE 

and  you're  just  talkin'  to  amuse  yourself.  Can't  you 
come  down  to  business?  Here  I  am  a  widower,  and 
here  you  are  a  widowess,  and  we're  both  lonesome, 
and  we 

"Who  told  you  I  was  lonesome,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"Well,  of  course  you  didn't,  'cause  you  never  tell 
anything  to  anyone.  But  I  guessed  you  was  some 
times,  from  the  looks  of  you." 

Hepsey  bent  her  head  over  her  work  and  counted 
stitches  a  long  time  before  she  looked  up.  Then  she 
remarked  slowly: 

"There's  an  awful  lot  of  sick  people  in  the  world, 
and  I'm  mighty  sorry  for  'em;  but  they'll  die,  or 
they'll  get  well.  I  guess  I'm  more  sorry  for  people 
who  have  to  go  on  livin',  and  workin'  hard,  when 
they're  just  dyin'  for  somebody  to  love  'em,  and  some 
body  to  love,  until  the  pain  of  it  hurts  like  a  wisdom 
tooth.  No,  I  can't  afford  to  be  lonesome  much,  and 
that's  a  fact.  So  I  just  keep  busy,  and  if  I  get  too 
lonesome,  I  just  go  and  jolly  somebody  that's  lone- 
somer  than  I  am,  and  we  both  feel  better;  and  if  I 
get  lonely  lyin'  awake  at  night,  I  light  a  lamp  and 
read  Webster's  Dictionary.  Try  it,  Jonathan;  it's  a 
sure  anti-doubt." 

"There  you  go  again,  tryin'  to  change  the  subject, 
just  when  I  thought  you  was  goin'  to  say  somethin'." 


ON  THE  SIDE  PORCH  169 

"But  you  don't  really  want  to  marry  me.  I'm  not 
young,  and  I'm  not  interestin' :  one  or  the  other  you've 
just  got  to  be." 

"You're  mighty  interestin'  to  me,  Hepsey,  anyway; 
and — and  you're  mighty  unselfish." 

"Well,  you  needn't  throw  that  in  my  face;  I'm  not 
to  blame  for  bein'  unselfish.  I've  just  had  to  be, 
whether  I  wanted  or  not.  It's  my  misfortune,  not  my 
fault.  Lots  of  people  are  unselfish  because  they're 
too  weak  to  stand  up  for  their  own  rights."  She 
paused — and  then  looked  up  at  him,  smiling  whimsi 
cally,  and  added:  "Well,  well,  Jonathan;  see  here 
now — I'll  think  it  over,  and  perhaps  some  day  before 
— go  'way,  you  horrid  thing !  Let  go  my  hand,  I  tell 
you.  There !  You've  made  me  drop  a  whole  row  of 
stitches.  If  you  don't  run  over  home  right  now,  be 
fore  you're  tempted  to  do  any  more  flirtin,  I'll — I'll 
hold  you  for  breach  of  promise." 


CHAPTERXV 


Bff 

TO  Nickey,  the  Maxwells  were  in  tKe  nature  of 
a  revelation.    At  his  impressionable  stage  of 
boyhood,  and  because  of  their  freedom  from 
airs  and  graces  of  any  kind,  he  was  quick  to  notice 
the  difference  in  type — "some  class  to  them ;  not  snobs 
or  dudes,  but  the  real  thing,"  as  he  expressed  it.    His 
ardent  admiration  of  Donald,  and  his  adoration  of 
Mrs.  Betty,  gave  him  ambition  to  find  the  key  to  their 
secret,  and  to  partake  of  it. 

He  was  too  shy  to  speak  of  it, — to  his  mother  last 
170 


NICKEY'S  SOCIAL  AMBITIONS      171 

of  all,  as  is  the  nature  of  a  boy, — and  had  to  rely  on 
an  observant  and  receptive  mind  for  the  earlier  steps 
in  his  quest.  When  Maxwell  boarded  with  them, 
Nickey  had  discovered  that  he  was  wont  to  exercise 
with  dumb-bells  each  morning  before  breakfast.  The 
very  keenness  of  his  desire  to  be  initiated,  held  him 
silent.  A  visit  to  the  town  library,  on  his  mother's 
behalf,  chanced  to  bring  his  eyes — generally  oblivious 
of  everything  in  the  shape  of  a  book — upon  the  title 
of  a  certain  volume  designed  to  instruct  in  various 
parlor-feats  of  physical  prowess. 

The  book  was  borrowed  from  the  librarian, — a 
little  shamefacedly.  The  next  morning  Mrs.  Burke 
was  somewhat  alarmed  at  the  noise  which  came  from 
Nickey's  room,  and  when  there  was  a  crash  as  if  the 
chimney  had  fallen,  she  could  stand  it  no  longer, 
and  hurried  aloft.  Nickey  stood  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor,  clad  in  swimming  trunks,  gripping  a  large 
weight  (purloined  from  the  barn)  in  either  hand, 
very  red  in  the  face,  and  much  out  of  breath. 

As  the  door  unexpectedly  opened  he  dived  for  bed 
and  pulled  the  clothes  under  his  chin. 

"Land  Sakes !"  Hepsey  breathed,  aghast.  "What's 
all  this  about?  If  there's  a  nail  loose  in  the  flooring 
I  can  lend  you  a  hammer  for  the  asking,"  and  she  ex 
amined  several  jagged  dents  in  the  boards. 


172  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"Say  ma,"  urged  Nickey  in  moving  tones.  "If  I'd 
a  pair  of  dumb-bells  like  Mr.  Maxwell's,  I  c'd  hold 
onto  'em.  I've  pretty  near  smashed  my  feet  with 
them  things — gosh  darn  it,"  he  added  ruefully,  nurs 
ing  the  bruised  member  under  the  clothes. 

"I  guess  you  can  get  'em,  next  time  you  go  to 
Martin's  Junction;  but  if  it's  exercise  you  want,"  his 
parent  remarked  unsympathetically,  "there's  plenty  of 
kindlin'  in  the  woodshed  wants  choppin'." 

She  retired  chuckling  to  herself,  as  she  caught  a 
glimmer  of  what  was  working  in  her  son's  mind. 

The  "reading  habit"  having  been  inculcated  by 
this  lucky  find  at  the  library,  it  was  not  long  before 
Nickey  acquired  from  the  same  source  a  veritable  col 
lection  of  volumes  on  the  polite  arts  and  crafts — "The 
Ready  Letter-Writer";  "Manners  Maketh  Man"; 
"Seven  Thousand  Errors  of  Speech;"  "Social  Culture 
in  the  Smart  Set,"  and  the  like. 

Nickey  laboriously  studied  from  these  authorities 
how  to  enter  a  ball  room,  how  to  respond  to  a  toast 
at  a  dinner  given  in  one's  honor,  how  to  propose  the 
health  of  his  hostess,  and  how  to  apologize  for  tread 
ing  on  a  lady's  train. 

In  the  secrecy  of  his  chamber  he  put  into  practice 
the  helpful  suggestions  of  these  invaluable  manuals. 
He  bowed  to  the  washstand,  begged  the  favor  of  the 


NICKEY'S  SOCIAL  AMBITIONS      173 

next  dance  from  the  towel  rack,  trod  on  the  window 
shade  and  made  the  prescribed  apology.  Then  he 
discussed  the  latest  novel  at  dinner  with  a  distin 
guished  personage;  and  having  smoked  an  invisible 
cigar,  interspersed  with  such  wit  as  accords  with  wal 
nuts  and  wine,  after  the  ladies  had  retired,  he  entered 
the  drawing-room,  exchanged  parting  amenities  with 
the  guests,  bade  his  hostess  good  night,  and  grace 
fully  withdrew  to  the  clothes-press. 

Several  times  Hepsey  caught  glimpses  of  him  going 
through  the  dumb  show  of  "Social  Culture  in  the 
Smart  Set,"  and  her  wondering  soul  was  filled  with 
astonishment  at  his  amazing  evolutions.  She  found 
it  in  her  heart  to  speak  of  it  to  Mrs.  Betty  and  Max 
well,  and  ask  for  their  interpretation  of  the  matter. 

So,  one  day,  during  this  seizure  of  feverish  enthusi 
asm  for  self-culture,  Hepsey  and  Nickey  received  an 
invitation  to  take  supper  at  the  rectory.  Neverthe 
less,  Mrs.  Burke  thought  it  prudent  to  give  her  son 
some  good  advice  in  regard  to  his  behavior.  She 
realized,  perhaps,  that  a  book  is  good  so  far  as  it 
goes,  but  is  apt  to  ignore  elementals.  So  she  called 
him  aside  before  they  started: 

"Now,  Nickey,  remember  to  act  like  a  gentleman, 
especially  at  the  table;  you  must  try  to  do  credit  to 
your  bringin'  up." 


174  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"Yes,  I'll  do  my  level  best  if  it  kills  me,"  the  boy 
replied. 

"Well,  what  do  you  do  with  your  napkin  when  you 
first  sit  down  to  the  table?" 

"Tie  it  'round  my  neck,  of  course  I" 

"Oh,  no,  you  mustn't  do  anything  of  the  sort;  you 
must  just  tuck  it  in  your  collar,  like  any  gentleman 
would.  And  when  we  come  home  what  are  you  goin' 
to  say  to  Mrs.  Maxwell?" 

"Oh,  I'll  say,  Til  see  you  later.'  " 

"Mercy  no !    Say,  'I've  had  a  very  nice  time.'  ' 

"But  suppose  I  didn't  have  a  nice  time, — what'd 
I  say?" 

For  a  moment  Hepsey  struggled  to  reconcile  her 
code  of  ethics  with  her  idea  of  good  manners,  and 
then  replied: 

"Why  say,  'Mrs.  Maxwell,  it  was  awfully  good  of 
you  to  ask  me,'  and  I  don't  believe  she'll  notice  any 
thing  wrong  about  that." 

"Hm !"  Nickey  retorted  scornfully.  "Seems  pretty 
much  like  the  same  thing  to  me."  i 

"Oh  no!  Not  in  the  least.  Now  what  will  you 
wear  when  we  go  to  the  rectory?" 

"My  gray  suit,  and  tan  shoes,  and  the  green  tie 
with  the  purple  spots  on  it." 

"Who'll  be  the  first  to  sit  down  to  the  table?" 


NICKEY'S  SOCIAL  AMBITIONS       175 

"Search  me — maybe  I  will,  if  there's  good  eats." 

"Nonsense !  You  must  wait  for  Mrs.  Maxwell  and 
the  rector  to  be  seated  first." 

"Well,"  Nickey  exclaimed  in  exasperation,  "I'm 
bound  to  make  some  horrible  break  anyway,  so  don't 
you  worry,  ma.  It  seems  to  me  from  what  them 
books  say,  that  when  you  go  visitin'  you've  got  to 
tell  lies  like  a  sinner;  and  you  can't  tell  the  truth  till 
you  get  home  with  the  door  shut.  I  never  was  good 
at  lyin' ;  I  always  get  caught." 

"It  isn't  exactly  lyin',  Nickey;  its  just  sayin'  nice 
things,  and  keepin'  your  mouth  shut  about  the  rest. 
Now  suppose  you  dropped  a  fork  under  the  table, 
what'd  you  say?" 

"I'd  say  '  'scuse  me,  Mrs.  Maxwell,  but  one  of  the 
forks  has  gone,  and  you  can  go  through  my  clothes 
if  you  want  to  before  I  go  home." 

"Hm!"  Hepsey  remarked  dryly,  "I  guess  the  less 
you  say,  the  better." 

Arrived  at  the  rectory,  Nickey  felt  under  some  re 
straint  when  they  first  sat  down  to  the  supper  table; 
but  under  the  genial  manner  of  Mrs.  Maxwell 
he  soon  felt  at  his  ease,  and  not  even  his  observant 
mother  detected  any  dire  breach  of  table  etiquette. 
His  conversation  was  somewhat  spare,  his  attention 
being  absorbed  and  equally  divided  between  observa- 


176  HEPSEY  BURKE 

tion  of  his  host  and  consumption  of  the  feast  set  be 
fore  him.  With  sure  tact,  Mrs.  Betty — though  re 
garding  Nickey  as  the  guest  of  honor — that  evening 
—deferred  testing  the  results  of  his  conversational 
studies  until  after  supper :  one  thing  at  once,  she  de 
cided,  was  fair  play. 

After  the  meal  was  over,  they  repaired  together  to 
the  parlor,  and  while  Hepsey  took  out  her  wash-rag 
knitting  and  Maxwell  smoked  his  cigar,  Mrs.  Betty 
gave  Nickey  her  undivided  attention. 

In  order  to  interest  the  young  people  of  the  place 
in  the  missionary  work  of  the  parish,  Mrs.  Betty  had 
organized  a  guild  of  boys  who  were  to  earn  what  they 
could  towards  the  support  of  a  missionary  in  the  west. 
The  Guild  had  been  placed  under  the  fostering  care 
and  supervision  of  Nickey  as  its  treasurer,  and  was 
known  by  the  name  of  "The  Juvenile  Band  of  Glean 
ers."  In  the  course  of  the  evening  Mrs.  Maxwell 
took  occasion  to  inquire  what  progress  they  were  mak 
ing,  thereby  unconsciously  challenging  a  somewhat 
surprising  recountal. 

"Well,"  Nickey  replied  readly,  "we've  got  forty- 
six  cents  in  the  treasury;  that's  just  me,  you  know;  I 
keep  the  cash  in  my  pants  pocket." 

Then  he  smiled  uneasily,  and  fidgeted  in  his  chair. 

There  was  something  in  Nickey's  tone  and  look 


NICKEY'S  SOCIAL  AMBITIONS      177 

that  excited  Mrs.  Betty's  curiosity,  and  made  his 
mother  stop  knitting  and  look  at  him  anxiously  over 
her  glasses. 

"That  is  very  good  for  a  start,"  Mrs.  Betty  com 
mended.  "How  did  you  raise  all  that,  Nickey?" 

For  a  moment  Nickey  colored  hotly,  looked  embar 
rassed,  and  made  no  reply.  Then  mustering  up  his 
courage,  and  laughing,  he  began: 

"Well,  Mrs.  Maxwell,  it  was  just  like  this.  Maybe 
you  won't  like  it,  but  I'll  tell  you  all  the  same.  Bein' 
as  I  was  the  president  of  the  Juv'nul  Band  of  Glean 
ers,  I  though  I'd  get  the  kids  together,  and  start 
somethin'.  Saturday  it  rained  cats  and  dogs,  so  Billy 
Burns,  Sam  Cooley,  Dimple  Perkins  and  me,  we  went 
up  into  the  hay  loft,  and  I  said  to  the  kids,  'You  fel 
lows  have  got  to  cough  up  some  dough  for  the  church, 
and '  » 

"Contribute  money,  Nickey.  Don't  be  slangy,"  his 
mother  interjected. 

"Well  I  says,  Tm  runnin'  the  Juv'nals,  and  you've 
got  to  do  just  what  I  say.  I've  got  a  dandy  scheme 
for  raisin'  money  and  we'll  have  some  fun  doin'  it, 
or  I  miss  my  guess.'  Then  I  asked  Sam  Cooley  how 
much  money  he'd  got,  and  Sam,  he  had  forty-four 
cents,  Billy  Burns  had  fifty-two  cents,  and  Dimple  had 
only  two.  Dimp  never  did  have  much  loose  cash,  any- 


178  HEPSEY  BURKE 

way.  But  I  said  to  Dimp,  'Never  mind,  Dimp ;  you 
aint  to  blame.  Your  dad's  an  old  skinflint.  I'll  lend 
you  six  to  start  off  with.'  Then  I  made  Billy  Burns 
sweep  the  floor,  while  Sam  went  down  to  the  chicken 
yard  and  caught  my  bantam  rooster,  Tooley.  Then 
I  sent  Dimp  after  some  chalk,  and  an  empty  peach 
basket,  and  a  piece  of  cord.  Then  we  was  ready  for 
business. 

C'I  marked  a  big  circle  on  the  barn  floor  with  the 
chalk,  and  divided  it  into  four  quarters  with  straight 
lines  runnin'  through  the  middle.  Then  I  turned  the 
peach  basket  upside  down,  and  tied  one  end  of  the 
string  on  the  bottom,  and  threw  the  other  end  up  over 
a  beam  overhead,  so  I  could  pull  the  basket  off  from 
the  floor  up  to  the  beam  by  the  string.  You  see," 
Nickey  illustrated  with  graphic  gestures,  "the  basket 
hung  just  over  the  middle  of  the  circle  like  a  bell. 
Then  I  took  the  rooster  and  stuck  him  under  the  bas 
ket.  Tooley  hollered  and  scratched  like  Sam  Hill  and 


"For  mercy  sake,  Nickey!  What  will  you  say 
next?" 

"Say,  ma,  you  just  wait  and  see.  Well,  Tooley 
kicked  like  everything,  but  he  had  to  go  under  just 
the  same.  Then  I  said  to  the  kids  to  sit  around  the 
circle  on  the  floor,  and  each  choose  one  of  the  four 


NICKEY'S  SOCIAL  AMBITIONS      179 

quarters  for  hisself, — one  for  each  of  us.  'Now,'  I 
said,  'you  must  each  cough  up ' ' 

"Nicholas!" 

"Oh  ma,  do  let  me  tell  it  without  callin*  me  down 
every  time.  'You  kids  must  hand  out  a  cent  apiece 
and  put  it  on  the  floor  in  your  own  quarter.  Then, 
when  I  say  ready,  I'll  pull  the  string  and  raise  the 
basket  and  let  Tooley  out.  Tooley'll  get  scared  and 
run.  If  he  runs  off  the  circle  through  my  quarter, 
then  the  four  cents  are  mine;  but  if  he  runs  through 
Dimp's  quarter,  then  the  four  cents  are  Dimp's.' 

"It  was  real  excitin'  when  I  pulled  the  string,  and 
the  basket  went  up.  You'd  ought  to  Ve  been  there, 
Mrs.  Maxwell.  You'd  have  laughed  fit  to  split " 

"Nicholas  Burke,  you  must  stop  talkin'  like  that, 
or  I'll  send  you  home,"  reproved  Mrs.  Burke,  look 
ing  severely  at  her  son,  and  with  deprecating  side- 
glances  at  his  audience. 

"Excuse  me,  ma.  It  will  be  all  over  in  a  minute. 
But  really,  you'd  have  laughed  like  sin — I  mean  you'd 
have  just  laughed  yourself  sick.  Tooley  was  awful 
nervous  when  the  basket  went  up.  For  a  minute  he 
crouched  and  stood  still,  scared  stiff  at  the  three  kids, 
all  yellin'  like  mad;  then  he  ducked  his  head  and  bolt 
ed  off  the  circle  through  my  quarter  and  flew  up  on  a 
beam.  I  thought  the  kids  would  bust." 


i8o  HEPSEY  BURKE 

Mrs.  Burke  sighed  heavily. 

"Well,  burst,  then.  But  while  they  were  laughin'  I 
raked  in  the  cash.  You  see  I  just  had  to.  I  won  it 
for  fair.  I'd  kept  quiet,  and  that's  why  Tooley  come 
across  my  quarter." 

Mrs.  Maxwell  was  sorting  over  her  music,  while 
Maxwell's  face  was  hidden  behind  a  paper.  Mrs. 
Burke  was  silent  through  despair.  Nickey  glanced 
furtively  at  his  hearers  for  a  moment  and  then  con 
tinued  : 

"Yes,  the  kids  was  tickled;  but  they  got  awful  quiet 
when  I  told  them  to  fork  over  another  cent  apiece  for 
the  jack-pot." 

"What  in  the  name  of  conscience  is  a  jack-pot?'* 
Hepsey  asked. 

Donald  laughed  and  Nickey  continued: 

"A  jack-pot's  a  jack-pot;  there  isn't  no  other  name 
that  I  ever  heard  of.  We  caught  Tooley  and  stuck 
him  under  the  basket,  and  made  him  do  it  all  over 
again.  You  see,  every  time  when  Tooley  got  loose, 
the  kids  all  leant  forward  and  yelled  like  mad;  but  I 
just  kept  my  mouth  shut,  and  leaned  way  back  out  of 
the  way  so  that  Tooley'd  run  out  through  my  quar 
ter.  So  I  won  most  all  the  time." 

There  was  a  pause,  while  Nickey  looked  a 
bit  apprehensively  at  his  audience.  But  he 


NICKEY'S  SOCIAL  AMBITIONS      181 

went    on    gamely    to    the    end    of    the    chapter. 

"Once  Tooley  made  a  bolt  in  a  straight  line  through 
Dimp's  quarter,  and  hit  Dimp  in  the  mouth,  and 
bowled  him  over  like  a  nine-pin.  Dimp  was  scared 
to  death,  and  howled  like  murder  till  he  found  he'd 
scooped  the  pot;  then  he  got  quiet.  After  we  made 
Tooley  run  ten  times,  he  struck  work  and  wouldn't 
run  any  more;  so  we  just  had  to  let  him  go;  but  I 
didn't  care  nothn'  about  that,  'cause  you  see  I  had 
the  kids'  cash  in  my  pants  pocket,  and  that  was  what  I 
was  after.  Well,  sir,  when  it  was  all  over,  'cause  I'd 
busted  the  bank " 

"Nicholas  Burke,  I  am  ashamed  of  you." 

"Never  mind,  ma;  I'm  most  through  now.  When 
they  found  I'd  busted  the  bank,  they  looked  kind  of 
blue,  and  Dimp  Perkins  said  it  was  a  skin  game,  and 
I  was  a  bunco  steerer." 

"What  did  you  say  to  that?"  Donald  inquired. 

"Oh,  I  just  said  it  was  all  for  religion,  it  was 
church  money,  and  it  was  all  right.  I  was  just  glean- 
in'  what  few  cents  they  had,  to  pay  the  church  debt 
to  the  missionary;  and  they  ought  to  be  ashamed  to 
have  a  church  debt  hangin'  over  'em,  and  they'd 
oughter  be  more  cheerful  'bout  givin'  a  little  somethin' 
toward  raisin'  of  it." 

When  Nickey  had  finished,  there  was  an  ominous 


182  HEPSEY  BURKE 

silence  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  his  mother  said 
sternly : 

"What  do  you  suppose  Mrs.  Perkins  will  say  when 
she  finds  that  you've  tricked  her  son  into  a  regular 
gambling  scheme,  to  get  his  money  away  from 
him?" 

"Mrs.  Perkins,"  retored  Nickey,  thoroughly 
aroused  by  the  soft  impeachment.  "I  should  worry ! 
At  the  church  fair,  before  Mr.  Maxwell  came,  she 
ran  a  fancy  table,  and  tried  to  sell  a  baby  blanket  to 
an  old  bachelor;  but  he  wouldn't  take  it.  Then  when 
he  wasn't  lookin',  blessed  if  she  didn't  turn  around 
and  tie  the  four  corners  together  with  a  bit  of  ribbon, 
and  sell  it  to  him  for  a  handkerchief  case.  She  got 
two  dollars  for  it,  and  it  wasn't  worth  seventy-five 
cents.  She  was  as  proud  as  a  dog  with  two  tails,  and 
went  around  tellin'  everybody." 

Silence  reigned,  ominous  and  general,  and  Nickey 
braced  himself  for  the  storm.  Even  Mrs.  Maxwell 
didn't  look  at  him,  and  that  was  pretty  bad.  He  be 
gan  to  get  hot  all  over,  and  the  matter  was  fast  as 
suming  a  new  aspect  in  his  own  mind  which  made  him 
ashamed  of  himself.  His  spirits  sank  lower  and  low 
er.  Finally  his  mother  remarked  quietly: 

"Nickey,  I  thought  you  were  goin'  to  be  a  gentle 


man." 


NICKEY'S  SOCIAL  AMBITIONS      183 

"That's  straight,  all  right,  what  I've  told  you,"  he 
murmured  abashed. 

There  was  another  silent  pause — presently  broken 
by  Nickey. 

"I  guess  I  hadn't  thought  about  it,  just  that  way. 
I  guess  I'll  give  the  kids  their  money  back,"  he  vol 
unteered  despondently — "only  I'll  have  to  make  it  up, 
some  way,  in  the  treasury."  He  felt  in  his  pockets, 
and  jingled  the  coins. 

Another  pause — with  only  the  ticking  of  his  moth 
er's  knitting  needles  to  relieve  the  oppressive  silence. 
Suddenly  the  worried  pucker  disappeared  from  his 
brow,  and  his  face  brightened  like  a  sun-burst. 

"I've  got  it,  Mrs.  Maxwell,"  he  cried.  "I've  got 
seventy-five  cents  comin'  to  me  down  at  the  Variety 
Store,  for  birch-bark  frames,  and  I'll  give  that  for  the 
blamed  old  missionaries.  That's  square,  ain't  it 
now?" 

Mrs.  Betty's  commendation  and  her  smile  were 
salve  to  the  wounds  of  her  young  guest,  and  Donald's 
hearty  laughter  soon  dispelled  the  sense  of  social 
failure  which  was  beginning  to  cloud  Nickey's  happy 
spirit. 

"Say  Nickey,"  said  Maxwell,  throwing  down  his 
paper,  "Mrs.  Betty  and  I  want  to  start  a  Boy  Scout 
Corps  in  the  parish,  and  with  your  resourceful  genius 


1 84  HEPSEY  BURKE 

you  could  get  the  boys  together,  and  explain  it  to 
them,  and  soon  we  should  have  the  whole  thing  in 
ship-shape  order.  Will  you  do  it?" 

"Will  I  ?"  exclaimed  the  delighted  recruit.  "I  guess 
so — but  some  of  'em  aint  'Piscopals,  Mr.  Maxwell; 
there's  Sam  Cooley,  he's  a  Methodist,  and — 

"That  doesn't  cut  any  ice,  Nickey, — excuse  my 
slang,  ladies,"  he  apologized  to  his  wife  and  Hepsey, 
at  which  the  boy  grinned  with  delight.  "We're  out 
to  welcome  all  comers.  I've  got  the  books  that  we 
shall  need  upstairs.  Let's  go  up  to  my  den  and  talk 
it  all  over.  We  shall  have  to  spend  evenings  getting 
thoroughly  up  in  it  ourselves, — rules  and  knots  and 
first-aid  and  the  rest.  Mrs.  Burke  will  allay  parental 
anxiety  as  to  the  bodily  welfare  of  the  recruits  and 
the  pacific  object  of  the  organization,  and  Mrs.  Max 
well  will  make  the  colors.  Come  on!" 

With  sparkling  eyes,  Nickey  followed  Donald  out 
of  the  room;  as  they  disappeared  Hepsey  slowly 
shook  her  head  in  grateful  deprecation  at  Betty. 

"Bless  him!"  ejaculated  Hepsey.  "Mixin'  up  re 
ligion,  with  a  little  wholesome  fun,  is  the  only  way 
you  can  serve  It  to  boys,  like  Nickey,  and  get  results. 
Boys  that  are  ever  goin'  to  amount  to  anything  are 
too  full  of  life  to  stand  'em  up  in  a  row,  with  a 
prayer  book  in  one  hand  and  a  hymnal  in  the  other, 


NICKEY'S  SOCIAL  AMBITIONS       185 

and  expect  'em  to  sprout  wings.  It  can't  be  done. 
Keep  a  boy  outside  enough  and  he'll  turn  out  alright. 
Fresh  air  and  open  fields  have  a  mighty  helpful  in 
fluence  on  'em.  The  way  I've  got  it  figgered  out,  all 
of  us  can  absorb  a  lot  of  the  right  kind  of  religion, 
if  we'll  only  go  out  and  watch  old  Mother  Nature, 
now  and  then." 


CHAPTERXVI 


THE  small  town  of  Durford  was  not  immune 
from  the  curse  of  drink:  there  was  no  doubt 
about  that.    Other  forms  of  viciousness  there 
were  in  plenty;  but  the  nine  saloons  did  more  harm 
than  all  the  rest  of  the  evil  influences  put  together, 
and  Maxwell,  though  far  from  being  a  fanatic,  was 
doing  much  in  a  quiet  way  to  neutralize  their  bad  in 
fluence.     He  turned  the  Sunday  School  room  into  a 
reading  room  during  the  week  days,  organized  a  gym 
nasium,  kept  watch  of  the  younger  men  individually, 

186 


TEMPERANCE  REFORM  187 

and  offered  as  best  he  could  some  chance  for  the  ex 
pression  of  the  gregarious  instinct  which  drew  them 
together  after  the  work  of  the  day  was  over.  In 
the  face  of  his  work  in  these  directions,  it  happened 
that  a  venturesome  and  enterprising  saloon-keeper 
bought  a  vacant  property  adjacent  to  the  church,  and 
opened  up  an  aggressive  business — much  to  Max 
well's  dismay. 

Among  the  women  of  the  parish  there  was  a  "La 
dies'  Temperance  League,"  of  which  Mrs.  Burke 
was  president.  They  held  quarterly  meetings,  and  it 
was  at  one  of  the  meetings  held  at  Thunder  Cliff, 
and  at  which  Mrs.  Burke  presided,  that  she  remarked 
severely: 

"Mrs.  Sapley,  you're  out  of  order.  There's  a  mo 
tion  before  the  house,  and  I've  got  something  to  say 
about  it  myself.  Mrs.  Perkins,  as  Mrs.  Maxwell 
was  unable  to  be  present,  will  you  kindly  take  the 
chair,  or  anything  else  you  can  lay  your  hands  on, 
and  I'll  say  what  I've  got  to  say." 

Mrs.  Perkins  took  Mrs.  Burke's  place  as  the  presi 
dent,  while  Mrs.  Burke  rubbed  her  glasses  in  an  im 
patient  way;  and  having  adjusted  them,  began  in  a 
decided  tone  from  which  there  was  meant  to  be  no 
appeal : 

"The  fact  is,  ladies,  we're  not  gettin'  down  to  busi- 


i88  HEPSEY  BURKE 

ness  as  we  ought  to,  if  we  are  to  accomplish  anything. 
We've  been  singing  hymns,  and  recitin'  lovely  poems, 
and  listenin'  to  reports  as  to  how  money  spent  for 
liquor  would  pay  off  the  national  debt;  and  we've  been 
sayin'  prayers,  and  pledgin'  ourselves  not  to  do  things 
none  of  us  ever  was  tempted  to  do,  or  thought  of 
doin',  and  wearin'  ribbons,  and  attendin'  conventions, 
and  talkin'  about  influencin'  legislation  at  Washing 
ton,  and  eatin'  sandwiches,  and  drinkin'  weak  tea,  and 
doin'  goodness  knows  what;  but  we've  not  done  a 
blessed  thing  to  stop  men  drinkin'  right  here  in  Dur- 
f ord  and  breakin'  the  town  law ;  you  know  that  well 
enough." 

Mrs.  Burke  paused  for  breath  after  this  astounding 
revolutionary  statement,  and  there  was  a  murmur  of 
scandalized  dissent  from  the  assembled  ladies  at  this 
outspoken  expression  on  the  part  of  the  honorable 
president  of  the  Parish  Guild. 

"No,"  she  continued  emphatically,  "don't  you  fool 
yourselves.  If  we  can't  help  matters  right  here  where 
we  live,  then  there's  no  use  havin'  imitation  church 
sociables,  and  goin'  home  thinkin'  we've  helped  the 
temperance  cause,  and  callin'  everybody  else  bad 
names  who  don't  exactly  agree  with  us." 

Again  there  were  symptoms  of  open  rebellion 
against  this  traitorous  heresy  on  the  part  of  the  plain- 


TEMPERANCE  REFORM  189 

spoken  president;  but  she  was  not  to  be  easily  silenced; 
so  she  continued: 

"Men  have  got  to  go  somewheres  when  their  work 
is  over,  and  have  a  good  time,  and  I  believe  that  we 
won't  accomplish  anything  until  we  fix  up  a  nice,  at 
tractive  set  of  rooms  with  games,  and  give  'em  some 
thing  to  drink." 

Cries  of  "Oh!  Oh!  Oh!"  filled  the  room. 

"I  didn't  say  whiskey,  did  I?  Anybody  would 
think  I'd  offered  to  treat  you,  the  way  you  receive 
my  remarks.  Now  we  can't  get  the  rooms  right  off, 
'cause  we  can't  yet  afford  to  pay  the  rent  of  'em.  But 
there's  one  thing  we  can  do.  There's  Silas  Bingham 
— the  new  man.  He's  gone  and  opened  a  saloon 
within  about  a  hundred  feet  of  the  church,  and  he's 
sellm'  liquor  to  children  and  runnin'  a  slot  machine 
besides.  It's  all  against  the  law;  but  if  you  think 
the  village  trustees  are  goin'  to  do  anythin'  to  enforce 
the  law,  you're  just  dead  wrong,  every  one  of  you. 
The  trustees  are  most  of  'em  in  it  for  graft,  and 
they  aint  goin'  to  close  no  saloon  when  it's  comin' 
election  day  'for  long,  not  if  Bingham  serves  cock 
tails  between  the  hymns  in  church.  Maybe  the  trus- 
tees'd  come  to  church  better  if  he  did.  Maybe  you 
think  I'm  usin'  strong  language;  but  it's  true  all  the 
same,  and  you  know  it's  true.  Silas  Bingham's  move 


1 9o  HEPSEY  BURKE 

is  a  sassy  challenge  to  us:  are  we  goin'  to  lie  down 
under  it?" 

"I  must  say  that  I'm  painfully  surprised  at  you, 
Mrs.  Burke,"  Mrs.  Burns  began.  "You  surely  can't 
forget  what  wonderful  things  the  League  has  accom 
plished  in  Virginia  and " 

"Yes,"  Mrs.  Burke  interrupted,  "but  you  see  Dur- 
ford  'aint  in  Virginia  so  far  as  heard  from,  and  it's 
our  business  to  get  up  and  hustle  right  here  where  we 
live.  Did  you  think  we  were  tryin'  to  reform  Vir 
ginia  or  Alaska  by  absent  treatment?" 

Mrs.  Sapley  could  not  contain  herself  another  mo 
ment;  so,  rising  to  her  feet  excitedly  she  sputtered: 

"I  do  not  agree  with  you,  Mrs.  Burke;  I  do  not 
agree  with  you  at  all.  Our  meetings  have  been  very 
inspiring  and  helpful  to  us  all,  I  am  perfectly  sure; 
very  uplifting  and  encouraging;  and  I  am  astonished 
that  you  should  speak  as  you  do." 

"I'm  very  glad  you've  found  them  so,  Mrs.  Sapley. 
I  don't  drink  myself,  and  I  don't  need  no  encouragin' 
and  upliftin'.  It's  the  weak  man  that  drinks  who 
needs  encouragin'  and  upliftin' ;  and  he  wouldn't  come 
near  one  of  our  meetin's  any  more  than  a  bantam 
rooster  would  try  to  hatch  turtles  from  moth-balls. 
We've  got  to  clear  Silas  Bingham  from  off  the  church 
steps." 


TEMPERANCE  REFORM  191 

"Well,"  Mrs.  Burns  inquired,  "what  do  you  pro 
pose  to  do  about  it,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  in 
quire?" 

"Do?  The  first  thing  I  propose  to  do  is  to  inter 
view  Silas  Bingham  myself  privately,  and  see  what  I 
can  do  with  him.  Perhaps  I  won't  accomplish  noth- 
in';  but  I'm  goin'  to  try,  anyway,  and  make  him  get 
out  of  that  location." 

"You  can,  if  anybody  can,"  Mrs.  Sapley  re 
marked. 

"Thank  you  for  the  compliment,  Mrs.  Sapley. 
Now  Mrs.  President,  I  move,  sir — that  is,  madam — 
that  the  parish  League  appoints  me  to  interview 
Bingham." 

The  motion  was  duly  seconded  and  passed,  not 
withstanding  some  mild  protests  from  the  opposition, 
and  Mrs.  Burke  resumed  her  place  as  presiding  offi 
cer  of  the  meeting.  Then  she  continued: 

"Excuse  me;  I  forgot  the  previous  question  which 
somebody  moved.  Shall  we  have  lettuce  or  chicken 
sandwiches  at  our  next  meetin'  ?  You  have  heard  the 
question.  Those  in  favor  of  chicken  please  say  aye. 
Ah!  The  ayes  have  the  chicken,  and  the  chicken  is 
unanimously  carried.  Any  more  business  to  come  be 
fore  the  meetin'?  If  not,  we'll  proceed  to  carry  out 
the  lit'ary  program  arranged  by  Miss  Perkins.  Then 


192  HEPSEY  BURKE 

we'll  close  this  meetin'  by  singin'  the  224th  hymn. 
Don't  forget  the  basket  by  the  door." 


Silas  Bingham  was  an  undersized,  timid,  pulpy 
soul,  with  a  horizontal  forehead,  watery  blue  eyes, 
and  a  receding  chin.  Out  of  "office  hours"  he  looked 
like  a  meek  solicitor  for  a  Sunday  School  magazine. 
One  bright  morning  just  as  he  had  finished  sweeping 
out  the  saloon  and  was  polishing  the  brass  rod  on  the 
front  of  the  bar,  Mrs.  Burke  walked  in,  and  extended 
her  hand  to  the  astonished  bar-keeper,  whose  chin 
dropped  from  sheer  amazement.  She  introduced  her 
self  in  the  most  cordial  and  sympathetic  of  tones, 
saying: 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Bingham?  I  haven't  had 
the  pleasure  of  meetin'  you  before;  but  I  always  make 
it  a  point  to  call  on  strangers  when  they  come  to 
town.  It  must  be  awful  lonesome  when  you  first  ar 
rive  and  don't  know  a  livin'  soul.  I  hope  your  wife  is 
tolerable  well." 

Bingham  gradually  pulled  himself  together  and 
turned  very  red,  as  he  replied: 

"Thanks!  But  my  wife  doesn't  live  here.  It's 
awful  kind  of  you,  I'm  sure;  but  you'll  find  my  wife 
in  the  third  house  beyond  the  bakery,  down  two 


TEMPERANCE  REFORM  193 

blocks — turn  to  the  right.    She'll  be  glad  to  see  you." 

"That's  good,"  Hepsey  responded,  "but  you  see  I 
don't  have  much  to  do  on  Thursdays,  and  I'll  just 
have  a  little  visit  with  you,  now  I'm  here.  Fine  day, 
isn't  it." 

Mrs.  Burke  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat  down,  adjusted 
her  feet  comfortably  to  the  rung  of  another  chair, 
and  pulled  out  her  knitting  from  her  work-bag,  much 
to  the  consternation  of  the  proprietor  of  the  place. 

"How  nice  you've  got  things  fixed  up,  Mr.  Bing- 
ham,"  Hepsey  remarked,  gazing  serenely  at  the  se 
ductive  variety  of  bottles  and  glasses,  and  the  glare  of 
mirrors  behind  the  bar.  "Nothin'  like  havin'  a  fine 
lookin'  place  to  draw  trade.  Is  business  prosperin' 
now-a-days?" 

Silas  turned  three  shades  redder,  and  stammered 
badly  as  he  replied: 

"Yes,  I'm  doin'  as  well  as  I  can  expect — er — I  sup 
pose." 

"Probably  as  well  as  your  customers  are  doin',  I 
should  imagine?  You  don't  need  to  get  discouraged. 
It  takes  time  to  work  up  a  trade  like  yours  in  a  nice, 
decent  neighborhood  like  this." 

Silas  stared  hard  at  the  unwelcome  intruder,  glanc 
ing  apprehensively  at  the  door  from  which  several 
customers  had  already  turned  away  when,  through  the 


i94  HEPSEY  BURKE 

glass,  they  had  caught  sight  of  Mrs.  Burke.  He  was 
desperately  ill  at  ease,  and  far  from  responding  cor 
dially  to  Hepsey's  friendly  advances;  and  his  ner 
vousness  increased  as  his  patrons  continually  retreat 
ed,  occasionally  grinning  derisively  at  him  through 
the  glass  in  the  door. 

"If  you  don't  mind  my  sayin'  it,  Mrs.  Burke,  I 
think  you'd  be  a  lot  more  comfortable  at  my  house 
than  you  are  here." 

"Oh,  I'm  perfectly  comfortable,  thanks;  perfectly 
comfortable.  Don't  you  worry  a  bit  about  me." 

"But  this  is -a  saloon,  and  it  'aint  just  what  you 
might  call  respectable  for  ladies  to  be  sittin'  in  a 
saloon,  now,  is  it?" 

"Why  not?" 

The  question  was  so  sudden,  sharp  and  unexpected 
that  Silas  jumped  and  almost  knocked  over  a  bottle  of 
gin,  and  then  stared  in  silent  chagrin  at  his  guest,  his 
nervous  lips  moving  without  speech. 

"I  don't  see,"  Hepsey  continued,  "just  why  the  men 
should  have  all  the  fun,  and  then  when  a  woman 
takes  to  enjoyin'  herself  say  that  it  isn't  respectable. 
What's  the  difference,  I'd  like  to  know?  This  is  a 
right  cheerful  place,  and  I  feel  just  like  stayin'  as 
long  as  I  want  to.  There's  no  law  against  a  woman 
goin'  to  a  saloon,  is  there?  I  saw  Jane  Dwire  come 


TEMPERANCE  REFORM  195 

out  of  Here  Saturday  night.  To  be  sure,  Jane  'aint 
just  what  you'd  call  a  'society'  lady,  as  you  might  say; 
but  as  long  as  I  behave  myself  I  don't  see  why  I 
should  go." 

"But,  ma'am,"  Silas  protested  in  wratful  despera 
tion,  "I  must  ask  you  to  go.  You'll  hurt  my  trade 
if  you  stay  here  any  longer." 

"Hurt  your  trade !  Nonsense !  You  aren't  half  as 
polite  as  I  thought  you  were.  I'm  awful  popular 
with  the  gentlemen.  You  ought  to  be  payin'  me  a 
commission  to  sit  here  and  entertain  your  customers, 
instead  of  insinuatin'  that  I  'aint  welcome.  Ah !  Here 
comes  Martin  Crowfoot.  Haven't  seen  Martin  in 
the  longest  time." 

Martin  slouched  in  and  reached  the  bar  and  or 
dered  before  he  caught  sight  of  Mrs.  Burke.  He  was 
just  raising  the  glass  to  his  lips  when  Hepsey  stepped 
up  briskly^  and  extending  her  hand,  exclaimed: 

"How  do  you  do,  Martin?  How  are  the  folks  at 
home?  Awful  glad  to  see  you." 

Martin  stared  vacantly  at  Mrs.  Burke,  dropped  his 
glass,  and  muttered  incoherently.  Then  he  bolted 
hastily  from  the  place  without  paying  for  his  drink. 

Bingham  was  now  getting  a  bit  hysterical  over  the 
situation,  and  was  about  to  make  another  vigorous 
protest,  when  Hiram  Green  entered  and  called  for 


196  HEPSEY  BURKE 

some  beer.  Again  Hepsey  extended  her  hand  cor 
dially,  and  Hiram  jumped  as  if  he  had  seen  a  ghost — 
for  they  had  been  friendly  for  years. 

"Hepsey  Burke,  what  in  the  name  of  all  that's  de 
cent  are  you  doin'  in  a  place  like  this?"  he  demanded 
when  he  could  get  his  breath.  "Don't  you  know 
you'll  ruin  your  reputation  if  you're  seen  sittin'  in  a 
saloon?" 

"Oh,  don't  let  that  worry  you,  Hiram.  My  repu 
tation  'd  freeze  a  stroke  of  lightnin'.  You  don't  seem 
to  be  worryin'  much  about  your  own  reputation." 

"Oh  well,  a  man  can  do  a  lot  of  things  a  woman 
can't,  without  losin'  his  reputation." 

For  an  instant  the  color  flamed  into  Mrs.  Burke's 
face  as  she  retorted  hotly: 

"Yes,  there's  the  whole  business.  A  man  can  drink, 
and  knock  the  seventh  commandment  into  a  cocked 
hat;  and  then  when  he  wants  to  settle  down  and  get 
married  he  demands  a  wife  as  white  as  snow.  If  he 
gets  drunk,  it's  a  lark.  If  she  gets  drunk,  it's  a  crime. 
But  I  didn't  come  here  to  preach  or  hold  a  revival, 
and  as  for  my  welfare  and  my  reputation,  Mr.  Bing- 
ham  and  I  was  just  havin'  a  pleasant  afternoon  to 
gether  when  you  came  in  and  interrupted  us.  He's 
awful  nice  when  you  get  to  know  him  real  intimate. 
Now,  Hiram,  I  hate  to  spoil  your  fun,  and  you  do 


TEMPERANCE  REFORM  197 

i 

look  a  bit  thirsty.  Suppose  you  have  a  lemonade  on 
me,  if  you're  sure  it  won't  go  to  your  head.  It  isn't 
often  that  we  get  out  like  this  togeher.  Lemonades 
for  two,  Mr.  Bingham;  and  make  Hiram's  real 
sweet." 

Mrs.  Burke  enjoyed  hugely  the  disgust  and  the 
grimaces  with  which  Green  swallowed  the  syrupy 
mixture.  He  then  beat  a  hasty  retreat  down  the 
street.  For  two  hours  Hepsey  received  all  who  were 
courageous  enough  to  venture  in,  with  most  engaging 
smiles  and  cordial  handshakes,  until  Silas  was  border 
ing  on  madness.  Finally  he  emerged  from  the  bar 
and  mustered  up  sufficient  courage  to  threaten: 

"Mrs.  Burke,  if  you  don't  quit,  I'll  send  for  the 
police,"  he  blustered. 

Hepsey  gazed  calmly  at  her  victim  and  replied: 

"I  wouldn't,  if  I  was  in  your  place." 

"Well  then,  I  give  you  fair  warning  I'll  put  you 
out  myself  if  you  don't  go  peaceable  in  five  min 
utes." 

"No,  Silas;  you're  wrong  as  usual.  You  can't  put 
me  out  of  here  until  I'm  ready  to  go.  I  could  wring 
you  out  like  a  mop,  and  drop  you  down  a  knot-hole, 
and  nobody  'd  be  the  wiser." 

The  door  now  opened  slowly  and  a  small  girl,  mis 
erably  clad,  entered  the  saloon.  Her  head  was  cov- 


198  HEPSEY,  BURKE 

ered  with  a  worn,  soiled  shawl.  From  underneath 
the  shawl  she  produced  a  battered  tin  pail  and  placed 
it  on  the  bar  with  the  phlegmatic  remark,  "Pa  wants 
a  quart  of  beer." 

Mrs.  Burke  looked  at  the  girl  and  then  at  Bing- 
ham,  and  then  back  at  the  girl  inquiringly. 

"Are  you  in  the  habit  of  gettin'  beer  here,  child?" 

"Sure  thing!"  the  girl  replied,  cheerfully. 

"How  old  are  you?" 

"Ten,  goin'  on  eleven." 

"And  you  sell  it  to  her?"  Hepsey  asked,  turning 
to  Bingham. 

"Oh,  it's  for  her  father.  He  sends  for  it."  He 
frowned  at  the  child  and  she  quickly  disappeared, 
leaving  the  can  behind  her. 

"Does  he?  But  I  thought  you  said  that  a  saloon 
was  no  place  for  a  woman;  and  surely  it  can't  be  a 
decent  place  for  a  girl  under  age.  Now  my  friend, 
I've  got  somethin'  to  say  to  you." 

"You  are  the  very  devil  and  all,"  Silas  remarked. 

"Thanks,  Silas.  The  devil  sticks  to  his  job,  any 
way;  and  owin'  to  the  likes  of  you  he  wins  out,  nine 
times  out  of  ten.  Now  will  you  clear  out  of  this 
location,  or  won't  you?" 

"Another  day  like  this  would  send  me  to  the  luna 
tic  asylum." 


i99 

"Then  I'll  be  around  in  the  mornin'  at  six-thirty 
sharp." 

"You  just  get  out  of  here,"  he  threatened. 

"If  you  promise  to  clear  out  yourself  within  three 
days." 

"I  guess  I'd  clear  out  of  Heaven  itself  to  get  rid 
of  you." 

"Very  well;  and  if  you  are  still  here  Saturday  after 
noon,  ten  of  us  women  will  come  and  sit  on  your 
steps  until  you  go.  A  woman  can't  vote  whether  you 
shall  be  allowed  to  entice  her  men-folk  into  a  place 
like  this,  and  at  the  very  church  door;  but  the  aver 
age  woman  can  be  mighty  disagreeable  when  she 
tries." 

Silas  Bingham  had  a  good  business  head:  he  reck 
oned  up  the  costs — and  cleared  out. 


•II 


EFORE  the  year  was  over  Mrs.  Betty  had  be 
come  popular  with  Maxwell's  parishioners 
through  her  unfailing  good-nature,  cordiality 
and  persistent  optimism.  Even  Mrs.  Nolan,  who 
lived  down  by  the  bridge,  and  made  rag  carpets,  and 
suffered  from  chronic  dyspepsia,  remarked  to  Mrs. 
Burke  that  she  thought  the  parson's  wife  was  very 
nice  "  'cause  she  'aint  a  bit  better  than  any  of  the  rest 
of  us," — which  tribute  to  Mrs.  Betty's  tact  made 
Mrs.  Burke  smile  and  look  pleased.  All  the  young 

200 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT  201 

men  and  girls  of  the  parish  simply  adored  her,  and  it 
was  marvelous  how  she  managed  to  keep  in  touch 
with  all  the  guilds,  do  her  own  housework,  and  learn 
to  know  everyone  intimately.  Hepsey  warned  her 
that  she  was  attempting  to  do  too  much. 

"The  best  parson's  wife,"  she  said,  "is  the  one  who 
makes  the  rest  work,  while  she  attends  to  her  own 
household,  and  keeps  her  health.  Her  business  is  not 
to  do  the  work  of  the  parson,  but  to  look  after  him, 
keep  him  well  nourished,  and  cheer  him  up  a  little  bit 
when  he  is  tempted  to  take  the  next  trolley  for  Tim- 
buctoo." 

The  retort  was  so  tempting  that  Mrs.  Betty  could 
not  help  saying: 

"There's  not  a  person  in  this  town  who  does  so 
much  for  others  as  you  do,  and  who  makes  so  little 
fuss  about  it.  It's  the  force  of  your  example  that  has 
led  me  astray,  you  see." 

"Hm!"  Hepsey  replied.  "I'm  glad  you  called  my 
attention  to  it.  I  shall  try  to  break  myself  of  the 
habit  at  once." 

As  for  Maxwell,  his  practical  helpfulness  in  for 
warding  the  social  life  of  the  place,  without  in  the 
least  applying  that  phase  of  his  activities  as  a  lever 
for  spiritual  upheavals,  and  his  ready  sympathy  for 
and  interest  in  the  needs  and  doings  of  young  and  old, 


202  HEPSEY  BURKE 

irrespective  of  class  or  caste,  gradualy  reaped  for  him 
the  affection  and  respect  of  all  sorts  and  conditions. 
In  fact,  the  year  had  been  a  pleasant  one  for  him,  and 
was  marred  by  only  one  circumstance,  the  continued 
and  growing  hostility  of  his  Senior  Warden,  Mr. 
Bascom.  From  the  first,  he  had  been  distinctly  un 
friendly  towards  his  rector;  but  soon  after  Maxwell's 
marriage,  his  annoying  opposition  was  quite  open  and 
pronounced,  and  the  weight  of  his  personal  influence 
was  thrown  against  every  move  which  Maxwell  made 
towards  the  development  of  the  parish  life  and  work. 

To  those  more  "in  the  know"  than  the  Maxwells 
themselves,  it  was  evident  that  a  certain  keen  aggres 
siveness  evinced  by  the  Senior  Warden  was  foreign  to 
his  phlegmatic,  brooding  character,  and  it  was  clear 
to  them  that  the  actively  malicious  virus  was  being 
administered  by  the  disappointed  Virginia.  That  she 
was  plotting  punishment,  in  revenge  for  wounded 
amour  -pro-pre,  was  clear  to  the  initiated,  who  were 
apprehensive  of  the  bomb  she  was  evidently  preparing 
to  burst  over  the  unconscious  heads  of  the  rector  and 
his  wife.  But  what  could  her  scheme  be? 

Gradually  Mrs.  Burke  noticed  that  Betty  began  to 
show  fatigue  and  anxiety,  and  was  losing  the  fresh 
ness  of  her  delicate  color;  while  Donald  had  become 
silent  and  reserved,  and  wore  a  worried  look  which 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT  203 

was  quite  unnatural  to  him.  Something  was  going 
wrong;  of  that  she  felt  sure;  but  observant  though 
she  was,  she  failed  to  trace  the  trouble  to  its  source. 

Matters  came  to  a  crisis  one  day  when  Maxwell 
was  informed  that  some  one  was  waiting  to  see  him 
in  the  parlor.  The  visitor  was  dressed  in  very  pro 
nounced  clothes,  and  carried  himself  with  a  self- 
assertive  swagger.  Maxwell  had  seen  him  in  Bas- 
com's  office,  and  knew  who  was  waiting  for  him  long 
before  he  reached  the  parlor,  by  the  odor  of  patchouli 
which  penetrated  to  the  hall. 

"Good  morning,  Mr.  Nelson,"  said  Maxwell. 
"Did  you  wish  to  see  me?" 

"Yes,  I  did,  Mr.  Maxwell,  and  I  am  sure  it  is  a 
great  pleasure." 

The  man  seated  himself  comfortably  in  a  large 
chair,  put  the  tips  of  his  fingers  together,  and  gazed 
about  the  room  with  an  expression  of  pleased  patron 
age. 

"Very  pretty  home  you  have  here,"  he  remarked 
suavely. 

"Yes,"  Maxwell  replied.  "We  manage  to  make 
ourselves  comfortable.  Did  you  wish  to  see  me  on 
business?" 

"Oh  yes,"  the  lawyer  replied,  "a  mere  technicality. 
I  represent  the  firm  of  Bascom  &  Nelson,  or  rather  I 


204  HEPSEY  BURKE 

should  say  I  am  Mr.  Bascom's  legal  agent  just  at 
present,  as  I  have  not  yet  been  admitted  as  his  part 
ner " 

The  man  stopped,  smirked,  and  evidently  relished 
prolonging  his  interview  with  Maxwell,  who  was  get 
ting  impatient.  Maxwell  drew  his  watch  from  his 
pocket,  and  there  was  a  look  in  his  eyes  which  made 
the  lawyer  proceed: 

"The  fact  is,  Rector,  that  I  came  to  see  you  on  a 
matter  of  business  about  the  rectory — as  Mr.  Bas 
com's  agent." 

"Will  you  kindly  state  it?" 

"It  concerns  the  use  of  this  house." 

"In  what  way?  This  is  the  rectory  of  the  church, 
and  the  rental  of  it  is  part  of  my  salary." 

"You  are  mistaken.  Mr.  Bascom  owns  the  house, 
and  you  are  staying  here  merely  on  sufferance." 

For  a  moment  Maxwell  was  too  astonished  to 
speak;  then  he  began: 

"Mr.  Bascom  owns  this  house?  What  do  you 
mean?  The  house  is  part  of  the  property  of  the 
church." 

"You  are  mistaken,  my  friend." 

"You  will  kindly  not  repeat  that  form  of  address, 
and  explain  what  you  mean,"  replied  Maxwell  heat 
edly 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT  205 

"Come,  come;  there's  no  use  in  losing  your  tem 
per,  my  dear  rector,"  retorted  Nelson  offensively. 

"You  have  just  two  minutes  to  explain  yourself, 
sir;  and  I  strongly  advise  you  to  improve  the  oppor 
tunity,  before  I  put  you  out  of  this  house." 

Nelson,  like  most  bullies,  was  a  coward,  and  evi 
dently  concluded  that  he  would  take  no  risks.  He 
continued : 

"As  I  said  before,  Sylvester  Bascom  practically 
owns  this  house.  It  does  not  belong  to  the  church 
property.  The  Episcopals  made  a  big  bluff  at  buying 
it  years  ago,  and  made  a  very  small  payment  in  cash; 
Bascom  took  a  mortgage  for  the  rest.  The  interest 
was  paid  regularly  for  a  while,  and  then  payments 
began  to  fall  off.  As  you  have  reason  to  know,  Bas 
com  is  a  generous  and  kind-hearted  man,  who  would 
not  for  the  world  inconvenience  his  rector,  and  so  he 
has  allowed  the  matter  to  go  by  default,  until  the  back 
interest  amounts  to  a  considerable  sum.  Of  course 
the  mortgage  is  long  past  due,  and  as  he  needs  the 
money,  he  has  commissioned  me  to  see  you  and  in 
form  you  that  he  is  about  to  foreclose,  and  to  ask  you 
to  vacate  the  premises  as  soon  as  you  conveniently 
can.  I  hope  that  I  make  myself  reasonably  clear." 

In  a  perfectly  steady  voice  Maxwell  replied : 

"What  you  say  is  clear  enough ;  whether  it  is  true 


206  HEPSEY  BURKE 

is  another  matter.  I  will  see  Mr.  Bascom  at  once, 
and  ask  for  his  own  statement  of  the  case." 

"I  don't  think  it  necessary  to  see  him,  as  he  has 
expressly  authorized  me  to  act  for  him  in  the  case." 

"Then  I  suppose  you  came  her  to  serve  the  notice 
of  ejectment  on  me." 

a'Oh,  we  wont  use  such  strong  language  as  that. 
I  came  here  merely  to  tell  you  that  the  house  must  be 
vacated  soon  as  possible.  Mr.  Bascom  has  gone  to 
New  York  on  business  and  will  not  be  back  for  two 
weeks.  Meantime  he  wishes  the  house  vacated,  so 
that  he  can  rent  it  to  other  parties." 

"When  does  the  Senior  Warden  propose  to  eject 
his  rector,  if  I  may  be  allowed  to  ask?" 

"Oh,  there  is  no  immediate  hurry  Any  time  this 
week  will  do." 

"What  does  he  want  for  this  place?" 

"I  believe  he  expects  fifteen  dollars  a  month." 

"Well,  of  course  that  is  prohibitive.  Tell  Mr.  Bas 
com  that  we  will  surrender  the  house  on  Wednesday, 
and  that  we  are  greatly  indebted  to  him  for  allowing 
us  to  occupy  it  rent-free  for  so  long  a  time." 

As  Donald  showed  the  objectionable  visitor  out  of 
the  house,  he  caught  sight  of  Hepsey  Burke  walking 
towards  it.  He  half  hoped  she  would  pass  by,  but 
with  a  glance  of  suspicion  and  barely  civil  greeting 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT  207 

to  Nelson  as  he  walked  away,  she  came  on,  and  with 
a  friendly  nod  to  Maxwell  entered  the  rectory. 

"I've  just  been  talkin'  to  Mrs.  Betty  for  her  good," 
she  remarked.  "I  met  her  in  town,  lookin'  as  peaked 
as  if  she'd  been  fastin'  double  shifts,  and  I  had  a 
notion  to  come  in  and  complete  the  good  work  on 
yourself." 

Maxwell's  woried  face  told  its  own  story.  He  was 
so  nonplused  by  the  bolt  just  dropped  from  the  blue 
that  he  could  find  no  words  of  responsive  raillery 
wherewith  to  change  the  subject. 

Hepsey  led  the  way  to  the  parlor  and  seated  her 
self,  facing  him  judicially.  In  her  quick  mind  the 
new  evidence  soon  crystallized  into  proof  of  her  al 
ready  half-formed  suspicions.  She  came  straight  to 
the  point. 

"Is  Bascom  making  you  any  trouble?  If  he  is, 
say  so,  'cause  I  happen  to  have  the  whip-hand  so  far 
as  he's  concerned.  That  Nelson's  nothin'  but  a  tool 
of  his,  and  a  dull  tool  at  that." 

"He's  an  objectionable  person,  I  must  say,"  re 
marked  Maxwell,  and  hesitated  to  trust  himself 
further. 

Mrs.  Burke  gazed  at  Maxwell  for  some  time  in 
silence  and  then  began: 

"You  look  about  done  up — I  don't  want  to  be  pry- 


208  HEPSEY  BURKE 

in',  but  I  guess  you'd  better  own  up.  Something's 
the  matter." 

"I  am  just  worried  and  anxious,  and  I  suppose  I 
can't  help  showing  it,"  he  replied  wearily. 

"So  you're  worried,  are  you.  Now  don't  you  get 
the  worried  habit;  if  it  makes  a  start  it  will  grow  on 
you  till  you  find  yourself  worryin'  for  fear  the  moon 
wont  rise.  Worryin's  like  usin'  rusty  scissors :  it  sets 
your  mouth  awry.  You  just  take  things  as  they  come, 
and  when  it  seems  as  if  everything  was  goin'  to  smash 
and  you  couldn't  help  it,  put  on  your  overalls  and 
paint  a  fence,  or  hammer  tacks,  or  any  old  thing  that 
comes  handy.  What  has  that  rascal  Bascom  been 
doin'  ?  Excuse  me — my  diplomacy's  of  the  hammer- 
and-tongs  order;  you're  not  gettin'  your  salary  paid?" 

For  some  time  Maxwell  hesitated  and  then  an 
swered: 

"Well,  I  guess  I  might  as  well  tell  you,  because  you 
will  know  all  about  it  anyway  in  a  day  or  two,  and 
you  might  as  well  get  a  correct  version  of  the  affair 
from  me,  though  I  hate  awfully  to  trouble  you.  The 
parish  owes  me  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  I  spoke 
to  Reynolds  about  it  several  times,  but  he  says  that 
Bascom  and  several  of  his  intimate  friends  wont  pay 
their  subscriptions  promptly,  and  so  he  can't  pay  me. 
But  the  shortage  in  my  salary  is  not  the  worst  of  it. 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT  209 

Did  you  know  that  the  rectory  was  heavily  mort 
gaged,  and  that  Bascom  holds  the  mortgage?" 

"Yes,  I  knew  it;  but  we  paid  something  down,  and 
the  interest's  been  kept  up,  and  we  hoped  that  if  we 
did  that  Bascom  would  be  satisfied." 

"It  seems  that  the  interest  has  not  been  paid  in  some 
time,  and  the  real  reason  why  Nelson  called  just  now 
was  to  inform  me  that  as  Bascom  was  about  to  fore 
close  we  must  get  out  as  soon  as  we  could.  I  told  him 
that  we  would  leave  on  Wednesday  next." 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  look  on  Mrs.  Burke's 
face  which  Maxwell  never  had  seen  before,  and  which 
boded  ill  for  Bascom:  but  she  made  no  immediate 
reply. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,"  she  said  finally,  "I  have 
been  afraid  of  this.  That  was  the  only  thing  that 
worried  me  about  your  gettin'  married.  But  I  felt 
that  no  good  would  come  from  worryin',  and  that  if 
Bascom  was  goin'  to  play  you  some  dirty  trick,  he'd 
do  it;  and  now  he's  done  it.  What's  got  into  the  man, 
all  of  a  sudden?  He's  a  skinflint — always  closer  than 
hair  to  a  dog's  back;  but  I  don't  believe  I've  ever 
known  him  do  somethin'  downright  ugly,  like  this." 

"Oh,  I  know  well  enough,"  remarked  Donald.  "If 
I  had  been  aware  of  how  matters  stood  about  the  rec 
tory,  I  should  have  acted  differently.  I  wrote  him  a 


210  HEPSEY  BURKE 

pretty  stiff  letter  a  day  or  two  ago,  calling  upon  him, 
as  Senior  Warden,  to  use  his  influence  to  fulfill  the 
contract  with  me,  and  get  the  arrears  of  my  salary 
paid  up.  I  suppose  he  had  thought  I  would  just  get 
out  of  the  place  if  my  salary  was  held  back — and  he's 
wanted  to  get  rid  of  me  for  some  time.  Now,  he's 
taken  this  other  means  of  ejecting  me  not  only  from 
his  house  but  from  the  town  itself.  He  knows  I  can't 
afford  to  pay  the  rent  out  of  my  salary — let  alone  out 
of  half  of  it!"  He  laughed  rather  bitterly. 

"He'll  be  singing  a  different  tune,  before  I've  done 
with  him,"  said  Hepsey.  "Now  you  leave  this  to  me 
— I'll  have  a  twitch  on  old  Bascom's  nose  that'll  make 
him  think  of  something  else  than  ejecting  his  rector. 
I'll  go  and  visit  with  him  a  little  this  afternoon." 

"But  Nelson  said  that  he  was  in  New  York." 

"I  know  better  than  that,"  snorted  Hepsey.  "But 
I  guess  he'll  want  to  go  there,  and  stay  the  winter 
there  too,  maybe,  when  I've  had  my  say.  No  sir — 
I'm  goin'  to  take  my  knittin'  up  to  his  office,  and  sit 
awhile;  and  if  he  doesn't  have  the  time  of  his  life  it 
wont  be  my  fault." 

She  turned  to  leave  the  room,  with  a  belligerent 
swing  of  her  shoulders. 

"Mrs.  Burke,"  said  Maxwell  gently,  "you  are  kind 
ness  itself;  but  I  don't  want  you  to  do  this — at  least 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT  211 

not  yet.  I  want  to  fight  this  thing  through  myself, 
and  rather  to  shame Bascom  into  doing  the  right  thing 
than  force  him  to  do  it — even  if  the  latter  were  possi 
ble.  I  must  think  things  out  a  bit.  I  shall  want  your 
help — we  always  do,  Betty  and  I." 

"I  don't  know  but  you're  right;  but  if  your  plan 
don't  work,  remember  mine  mil.  Well,  Mrs.  Betty'll 
be  coming  in  soon,  and  I'll  leave  you.  Meantime  I 
shall  just  go  home  and  load  my  guns:  I'm  out  for 
Bascom's  hide,  sooner  or  later." 


WHEN  Betty  returned,  and  Donald  told  her 
the  happenings  of  the  morning,  the  clouds 
dispersed  somewhat,   and  before  long  the 
dictum  that  "there  is  humor  in  all  things" — even  in 
ejection  from  house  and  home — seemed  proven  true. 
After  lunch  they  sat  in  Donald's  den,  and  were  laugh 
ingly  suggesting  every  kind  of  habitat,  possible  and 
impossible,  from  purchasing  and  fitting  up  the  ice 
man's  covered  wagon  and  perambulating  round  the 
town,  to  taking  a  store  and  increasing  their  income 

'212 


THE  NEW  RECTORY  213 

by  purveying  Betty's  tempting  preserves  and  confec 
tions. 

Their  consultation  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival 
of  Nickey,  armed  with  a  Boy  Scouts'  "Manual." 

"Gee!  Mr.  Maxwell:  Uncle  Jonathan  Jackson's 
all  right;  I'll  never  do  another  thing  to  guy  him.  He's 
loaned  us  his  tent  for  our  Boy  Scouts'  corpse,  and 
I've  been  studyin'  out  how  to  pitch  it  proper,  so  I 
can  show  the  kids  the  ropes;  but " 

"Donald!"  cried  Betty.  "The  very  thing— let's 
camp  out  on  the  church  lot." 

"By  Jinks!"  exclaimed  Maxwell,  unclerically. 
"We'll  have  that  tent  up  this  very  afternoon — if 
Nickey  will  lend  it  to  us,  second  hand,  and  get  his 
men  together." 

Nickey  flushed  with  delight.  "You  betcher  life  I 
will,"  he  shouted  excitedly.  "Is  it  for  a  revival 
stunt?  You  'aint  goin'  to  live  there,  are  you?" 

"That's  just  what  we  are  going  to  do,  if  Jonathan, 
and  you'll  lend  us  the  tent  for  a  few  months.  Mr. 
Bascom  wants  to  let  the  rectory  to  some  other  ten 
ants,  and  we've  got  to  find  somewhere  else  to  lay  our 
heads.  Why,  it's  the  very  way!  There's  not  a  thing 
against  it,  that  I  can  see.  Let's  go  and  see  the  tent, 
and  consult  Mrs.  Burke.  Come  along,  both  of  you." 

'And  off  they  hurried,  like  three  children  bent  on  a 


2i4  HEPSEY  BURKE 

new  game.  It  was  soon  arranged,  and  Hepsey  rose 
to  the  occasion  with  her  usual  vim.  To  her  and  Nick- 
ey  the  transportation  of  the  tent  was  consigned,  while 
Maxwell  went  off  to  purchase  the  necessary  boarding 
for  a  floor,  and  Mrs.  Betty  returned  to  the  rectory 
to  pack  up  their  belongings. 

"We'll  have  to  occupy  our  new  quarters  to-night," 
said  Maxwell,  "or  our  friend  the  enemy  may  raid  the 
church  lot  in  the  night,  and  vanish  with  tent  and  all." 

An  hour  or  so  later,  when  Maxwell  arrived  at  the 
church,  clad  in  overalls  and  riding  on  a  wagon  of 
planks,  he  found  Mrs.  Burke  and  Nickey  with  a  con 
tingent  of  stalwarts  awaiting  him.  There  was  a  heap 
of  canvas  and  some  coils  of  rope  lying  on  the  ground 
near  by.  Hepsey  greeted  him  with  a  smile  from  un 
der  the  shade  of  her  sun-bonnet. 

"You  seem  ready  for  business,  even  if  you  don't 
look  a  little  bit  like  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  in 
that  rig,"  she  remarked.  "I'm  afraid  there'll  be  an 
awful  scandal  in  the  parish  if  you  go  wanderin'  around 
dressed  like  a  carpenter;  but  it  can't  be  helped;  and 
if  the  Bishop  excommunicates  you,  I'll  give  you  a  job 
on  the  farm." 

"I  don't  mind  about  the  looks  of  it;  but  I  suppose 
the  vestry  will  have  something  to  say  about  our  camp 
ing  on  church  property." 


THE  NEW  RECTORY  215 

"That  needn't  worry  you.  Maybe  it'll  bring  'em 
to  their  senses,  and  maybe,  they'll  be  ashamed  when 
they  see  their  parson  driven  out  of  his  house  and 
havin'  to  live  in  a  tent, — though  I  Ymt  holdin'  out 
much  hope  of  that,  to  you.  Folks  that  are  the  most 
religious  are  usually  the  hardest  to  shame.  I  always 
said,  financially  speakin',  that  preachin'  wasn't  a  sound 
business.  It's  all  give  and  no  get;  but  this  is  the  first 
time  I've  ever  heard  of  a  parish  wanting  a  parson  to 
preach  without  eating  and  to  sleep  without  a  roof  over 
his  head.  Most  of  us  seem  to  forget  that  rectors  are 
human  being  like  the  rest  of  us.  If  religion  is  worth 
havin',  it's  worth  payin'  for." 

The  planking  was  soon  laid,  and  the  erection  of  the 
tent  was  left  to  Nickey's  captaining — all  hands  assist 
ing.  With  his  manual  in  one  hand  he  laid  it  out,  rope 
by  rope,  poles  in  position,  and  each  helper  at  his  place. 
Then  at  a  word,  up  it  soared,  with  a  "bravo"  from 
the  puzzled  onlookers. 

"We  want  a  poet  here,"  laughed  Maxwell.  "Long 
fellow's  'Building  of  the  Ship,'  or  Ralph  Connor's 
'Building  the  Barn'  aren't  a  circumstance  to  Nickey's 
'Pitching  the  Parson's  Tent.'  " 

It  was  next  divided  off  into  three  convenient  rooms, 
for  sleeping,  eating  and  cooking — and  Hepsey,  with 
three  scouts,  having  driven  across  to  the  old  rectory 


216  HEPSEY  BURKE 

while  the  finishing  touches  were  being  put  to  the  new, 
she  and  her  military  escort  soon  returned  with  Mrs. 
Betty,  and  a  load  of  furniture  and  other  belongings. 

"Why,  this  is  perfect!"  cried  Betty.  "The  only 
thing  lacking  to  complete  the  illusion  is  a  trout  brook 
in  the  front  yard,  and  the  smell  of  pines  and  the  damp 
mossy  earth  of  the  forests.  We'll  wear  our  old 
clothes,  and  have  a  bonfire  at  night,  and  roast  potatoes 
and  corn  in  the  hot  coals,  and  have  the  most  beautiful 
time  imaginable." 

The  town  visitors  who  still  lingered  on  the  scene 
were  received  cordially  by  Maxwell  and  Mrs.  Betty, 
who  seemed  to  be  in  rather  high  spirits;  but  when  the 
visitors  made  any  inquiries  concerning  structural  mat 
ters  they  were  politely  referred  to  Nickey  Burke  for 
any  information  they  desired,  as  he  had  assumed  offi 
cial  management  of  the  work. 

Just  before  the  various  helpers  left  at  six  o'clock, 
smoke  began  to  issue  from  the  little  stove-pipe  stick 
ing  out  through  the  canvas  of  the  rear  of  the  tent, 
and  Mrs.  Betty,  with  her  sleeves  rolled  up  to  her  el 
bows  and  her  cooking  apron  on,  came  out  to  watch  it 
with  all  the  pride  of  a  good  housekeeper. 

"Isn't  it  jolly,  Mrs.  Burke,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  was 
afraid  that  it  would  not  draw,  but  it  really  does, 
you  see.  This  will  be  more  fun  than  a  month  at  the 


THE  NEW  RECTORY  217 

seashore;  and  to-morrow  we  are  going  to  have  you 
and  Nickey  dine  with  us  in  the  tent;  so  don't  make 
any  other  engagement.  Don't  forget." 

By  noon  of  the  following  day  everybody  in  town 
knew  that  the  Maxwells  had  been  dispossessed,  and 
were  camping  on  the  church  lot;  and  before  night 
most  of  the  women  and  a  few  of  the  men  had  called 
to  satisfy  their  curiosity,  and  to  express  their  sym 
pathy  with  the  rector  and  his  wife,  who,  however, 
seemed  to  be  quite  comfortable  and  happy  in  their 
new  quarters.  On  the  other  hand,  some  of  the  vestry 
hinted  strongly  that  tents  could  not  be  put  upon  church 
property  without  their  formal  permission,  and  a  few 
of  the  more  pious  suggested  that  it  was  little  short  of 
sacrilege  thus  to  riolate  the  sanctity  of  a  consecrated 
place.  Nickey  had  painted  a  large  sign  with  the  word 
RECTORY  on  it,  in  truly  rustic  lettering,  and  had  hung 
it  at  the  entrance  of  the  tent.  The  Editor  of  the 
Durford  Daily  Bugle  appeared  with  the  village 
photographer,  and  after  an  interview  with  Maxwell 
requested  him  and  his  wife  to  pose  for  a  picture  in 
front  of  the  tent.  This  they  declined  with  thanks; 
but  a  half-column  article  giving  a  sensational  account 
of  the  affair  appeared  in  the  next  issue  of  the  paper, 
headed  by  a  half-tone  picture  of  the  tent  and  the 
church.  Public  sentiment  ran  strongly  against  Bas- 


2i 8  HEPSEY  BURKE 

com,  to  whom  rumor  quickly  awarded  the  onus  of  the 
incident.  In  reply  to  offers  of  hospitality,  Maxwell 
and  Mrs.  Betty  insisted  that  they  were  very  comfort 
able  for  the  time  being,  and  were  not  going  to  move 
or  make  any  plans  for  the  Immediate  future.  The 
morning  of  the  fourth  day,  Maxwell  announced  to 
Mrs.  Betty  that  he  had  a  strong  presentiment  that 
Bascom  would  soon  make  another  move  in  the  game, 
and  he  was  not  surprised  when  he  saw  Nelson  ap 
proaching. 

"Thank  goodness  we  are  in  the  open  air,  this  time," 
Maxwell  remarked  to  Betty  as  he  caught  sight  of  the 
visitor.  "I'll  talk  to  him  outside — and  perhaps  you'd 
better  shut  the  door  and  keep  out  the  language.  I 
may  have  to  express  myself  more  forcibly  than  po 
litely." 

Nelson  began: 

"I  am  sorry  to  have  to  intrude  upon  you  again,  Mr. 
Maxwell,  but  I  must  Inform  you  that  you  will  have 
to  vacant  that  tent  and  find  lodgings  elsewhere." 

"Why,  pray?    This  tent  is  my  property  for  as  long  t 
as  I  require  it." 

"Ah !  But  you  see  it  has  been  put  up  on  the  land 
that  belongs  to  the  church,  and  you  have  no  title  to 
use  the  land,  you  know,  for  private  purposes." 

"Pardon  me,"  Maxwell  replied,  "but  while  the  legal 


THE  NEW  RECTORY  219 

title  to  all  church  property  is  held  by  the  wardens  and 
vestry  collectively,  the  freehold  use  of  the  church 
building  and  grounds  is  held  by  the  rector  for  the 
purpose  of  the  exercise  of  his  office  as  rector.  No 
church  property  is  injured  by  this  tent.  This  lot  was 
originally  purchased  for  a  rectory.  To  all  intents  and 
purposes  (excuse  me;  I  am  hot  punning)  this  tent  is 
the  rectory  pro  tern.  The  use  of  a  rectory  was  offered 
me  as  part  of  the  original  agreement  when  I  accepted 
the  call  to  come  to  this  parish." 

"Hm!  You  speak  quite  as  if  you  belonged  to  the 
legal  profession  yourself,  Mr.  Maxwell.  However, 
I  am  afraid  that  you  will  have  to  get  off  the  lot  just 
the  same.  You  must  remember  that  I  am  simply 
carrying  out  Mr.  Bascom's  instructions." 

"Very  well;  please  give  my  compliments  to  Mr. 
Bascom  and  tell  him  that  he  is  welcome  to  come  here 
and  put  me  out  as  soon  as  he  thinks  best.  Moreover, 
you  might  remind  him  that  he  is  not  an  autocrat,  and 
that  he  cannot  take  any  legal  action  in  the  matter  with 
out  a  formal  meeting  of  the  vestry,  which  I  will  call 
and  at  which  I  will  preside.  He  can  appeal  to  the 
Bishop  if  he  sees  fit." 

"Then  I  understand  that  you  propose  to  stay  where 
you  are,  in  defiance  of  Mr.  Bascom's  orders?" 

"I  most  certainly  do.     It  is  well  known  that  Mr. 


220  HEPSEY  BURKE 

Bascom  has  successfully  intimidated  every  one  of  my 
predecessors;  but  he  has  met  his  match  for  once.  I 
shall  not  budge  from  this  tent  until  I  see  fit." 

"Well,  I  should  be  very  sorry  to  see  you  forcibly 
ejected." 

"Don't  waste  any  sympathy  on  me,  sir.  If  Mr. 
Bascom  attempts  to  molest  me,  I  shall  take  the  mat 
ter  to  the  courts  and  sue  him  for  damages." 

"Your  language  is  somewhat  forcible,  considering 
that  you  are  supposed  to  be  his  pastor  and  spiritual 
advisor." 

"Very  well;  tell  Mr.  Bascom  that  as  his  spiritual 
advisor  I  strongly  suggest  that  his  spiritual  condition 
will  not  be  much  improved  by  attempting  to  molest 
us  here." 

"But  to  be  perfectly  frank  with  you,  Mr.  Maxwell, 
he  can  force  you  to  leave,  by  stopping  the  payment 
of  your  salary,  even  if  he  does  not  eject  you  by 
force." 

"I  rather  think  not.  Until  he  can  bring  specific 
charges  against  me,  he  is  liable  for  the  fulfillment  of 
our  original  contract,  in  his  writing.  Moreover,  I 
may  have  more  friends  in  the  parish  than  he  im 
agines." 

Nelson  was  visibly  disturbed  by  the  rector's  firm 
hold  on  the  situation. 


THE  NEW  RECTORY  221 

"But,"  he  stuttered,  "Mr.  Bascom  is  the  richest 
man  in  the  parish,  and  his  influence  is  strong.  You 
will  find  that  everyone  defers  to  his  judgment  as  a 
matter  of  course." 

"All  right;  then  let  me  add,  for  your  own  informa 
tion,  that  I  can  earn  my  living  honestly  in  this  town 
and  take  care  of  myself  without  Mr.  Bascom's  assist 
ance,  if  necessary;  and  do  my  parish  work  at  the  same 
time.  I  have  two  muscular  arms,  and  if  it  comes  down 
to  earning  a  livelihood,  independent  of  my  salary,  I 
can  work  on  the  state  road  hauling  stone.  William 
son  told  me  yesterday  he  was  looking  for  men." 

"I  can  scarcely  think  that  the  parishioners  would 
hold  with  their  rector  working  like  a  common  laborer, 
Mr.  Maxwell,"  admonished  Nelson. 

"We  are  all  'common,'  in  the  right  sense,  Mr. 
Nelson.  My  view  is  that  work  of  any  kind  is  always 
honorable  when  necessary,  except  in  the  eyes  of  the 
ignorant.  If  Mr.  Bascom  is  mortified  to  have  me 
earn  my  living  by  manual  labor,  when  he  is  not 
ashamed  to  repudiate  a  contract,  and  try  to  force  me 
out  of  the  parish  by  a  process  of  slow  starvation, 
his  sense  of  fitness  equals  his  standard  of  honor." 

"Well,  I  am  sure  that  I  do  not  know  what  I  can 
do." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  tell  you?" 


222  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"If  it  will  relieve  your  feelings,"  Nelson  drawled 
insolently. 

"Then  get  out  of  this  place  and  stay  out.  If  you 
return  again  for  any  purpose  whatever  I  am  afraid  it 
is  I  who  will  have  to  eject  you.  We  will  not  argue 
the  matter  again." 

"Well,  I  regret  this  unfortunate  encounter,  and  to 
have  been  forced  to  listen  to  the  unguarded  vitupera 
tion  of  my  rector."  With  which  retort  he  departed. 

Soon  after  Nelson  had  left,  Mrs.  Burke  called  in, 
and  Betty  gave  her  a  highly  amusing  and  somewhat 
colored  version  of  the  interview. 

"You  know,  I  think  that  our  theological  seminaries 
don't  teach  budding  parsons  all  they  ought  to,  by  any 
means,"  she  concluded. 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,  Betty  dear;  and  I  thank 
my  stars  for  college  athletics,"  laughed  Maxwell, 
squaring  up  to  the  tent-pole. 

"What  did  I  tell  you,"  reminded  Hepsey,  "when 
you  had  all  those  books  up  in  your  room  at  my  place. 
It's  just  as  important  for  a  country  parson  to  know 
how  to  make  a  wiped-joint  or  run  a  chicken  farm  or 
pull  teeth,  as  it  is  to  study  church  history  and  theol 
ogy.  A  parson's  got  to  live  somehow,  and  a  trade 
school  ought  to  be  attached  to  every  seminary,  ac 
cording  to  my  way  of  thinking!  St.  Paul  made  tents, 


THE  NEW  RECTORY  223 

and  wasn't  a  bit  ashamed  of  it.  Well  I'm  mighty  glad 
that  Bascom  has  got  come  up  with  for  once.  Don't 
you  give  in,  and  it  will  be  my  turn  to  make  the  next 
move,  if  this  don't  bring  him  to  his  senses.  You 
just  wait  and  see." 


Hit 


HEPSEY  had  been  so  busy  with  helping  the 
Maxwells  that  for  some  time  no  opportunity 
had  occurred  for  Jonathan  to  press  his  ardent 
suit.    Since  his   first  attempt  and   its   abrupt  term 
ination,  he    had    been    somewhat    bewildered;    he 
had  failed  to  decide  whether  he  was  an  engaged  man 
open  to  congratulations,  or  a  rejected  suitor  to  be 
condoled  with.     He  tried  to  recall  exactly  what  she 
had  said.    As  near  as  he  could  recollect,  it  was :  "I'll 
think  it  over,  and  perhaps  some  day — "     Then  he 

224 


COULEUR  DE  ROSE  225 

had  committed  the  Indiscretion  of  grasping  her  hand, 
causing  her  to  drop  her  stitches  before  she  had  ended 
what  she  was  going  to  say.  He  could  have  sworn  at 
himself  to  think  that  it  was  all  his  fault  that  she  had 
stopped  just  at  the  critical  moment,  when  she  might 
have  committed  herself  and  given  him  some  real  en 
couragement.  But  he  consoled  himself  by  the  thought 
that  she  had  evidently  taken  him  seriously  at  last;  and 
so  to  the  "perhaps  some  day"  he  added,  in  imagina 
tion,  the  words  "I  will  take  you";  and  this  seemed 
reasonable. 

The  matter  was  more  difficult  from  the  very  fact 
that  they  had  been  on  such  intimate  terms  for  such 
a  long  time,  and  she  had  never  hitherto  given  him 
any  reason  to  think  that  she  cared  for  him  other  than 
as  a  good  neighbor  and  a  friend.  Ever  since  the  death 
of  his  wife,  she  seemed  to  feel  that  he  had  been  left 
an  orphan  in  a  cold  and  unsympathetic  world,  and 
that  it  was  her  duty  to  look  after  him  much  as  she 
would  a  child.  She  was  in  the  habit  of  walking  over 
whenever  she  pleased  and  giving  directions  to  Mary 
McGuire  in  regard  to  matters  which  she  thought 
needed  attention  in  his  house.  And  all  this  had  been 
done  in  the  most  open  and  matter-of-fact  way,  so  that 
the  most  accomplished  gossip  in  Durford  never  ac 
cused  her  of  making  matrimonial  advances  to  the 


226  HEPSEY  BURKE 

lonesome  widower.  Even  Jonathan  himself  had  been 
clever  enough  to  see  that  she  regarded  him  much  as 
she  would  an  overgrown  boy,  and  had  always  accept 
ed  her  many  attentions  without  misinterpreting  them. 
She  was  a  born  manager,  and  she  managed  him ;  that 
was  all.  Nothing  could  be  more  unsentimental  than 
the  way  in  which  she  would  make  him  take  off  his 
coat  during  a  friendly  call,  and  let  her  sponge  and 
press  it  for  him;  or  the  imperative  fashion  in  which 
she  sent  him  to  the  barber's  to  have  his  beard  trimmed. 
How  could  a  man  make  love  to  a  woman  after  she 
had  acted  like  this  ? 

But  he  reminded  himself  that  if  he  was  ever  to 
win  her  he  must  begin  to  carry  out  the  advice  outlined 
by  Mrs.  Betty;  and  so  the  apparently  unsuspecting 
Hepsey  would  find  on  her  side  porch  in  the  morning 
some  specially  fine  corn  which  had  been  placed  there 
after  dark  without  the  name  of  the  donor.  Once  a 
fine  melon  was  accompanied  by  a  bottle  of  perfum 
ery;  and  again  a  basket  of  peaches  had  secreted  in 
its  center  a  package  of  toilet  soap  'strong  enough  to 
kill  the  grass,"  as  Hepsey  remarked  as  she  sniffed  at 
it.  Finally  matters  reached  a  climax  when  a  bushel 
of  potatoes  arrived  on  the  scene  in  the  early  dawn, 
and  with  it  a  canary  bird  in  a  tin  cage.  When  Hep 
sey  saw  Jonathan  later,  she  remarked  casually  that 


COULEUR  DE  ROSE  227 

she  "guessed  she'd  keep  the  potatoes;  but  she  didn't 
need  a  canary  bird  any  more  than  a  turtle  needs  a 
tooth-pick;  and  he  had  better  take  it  away  and  get 
his  money  back." 

However,  Jonathan  never  allowed  her  occasional 
rebuffs  to  discourage  him  or  stop  his  attentions.  He 
kept  a  close  watch  on  all  Hepsey's  domestic  interests, 
and  if  there  were  any  small  repairs  to  be  made  at 
Thunder  Cliff,  a  hole  in  the  roof  to  be  mended,  or 
the  bricks  on  the  top  of  the  chimney  to  be  relaid, 
or  the  conductor  pipe  to  be  readjusted,  Jonathan  was 
on  the  spot.  Then  Jonathan  would  receive  in  return 
a  layer  cake  with  chopped  walnuts  in  the  filling,  and 
would  accept  it  in  the  same  matter-of-fact  way  in 
which  Hepsey  permitted  his  services  as  general  care 
taker. 

This  give-and-take  business  went  on  for  some  time. 
At  last  it  occurred  to  him  that  Mrs.  Burke's  front 
porch  ought  to  be  painted,  and  he  conceived  the  notion 
of  doing  the  work  without  her  knowledge,  as  a  pleas 
ant  surprise  to  her.  He  waited  a  long  time  for  some 
day  when  she  should  be  going  over  to  shop  at  Mar 
tin's  Junction, — when  Nickey  usually  managed  to  be 
taken  along, — so  that  he  could  do  the  work  unob 
served.  Meantime,  he  collected  from  the  hardware 
store  various  cards  with  samples  of  different  colors 


228  HEPSEY  BURKE 

on  them.  These  he  would  combine  and  re-combine 
at  his  leisure,  in  the  effort  to  decide  just  what  colors 
would  harmonize.  He  finally  decided  that  a  rather 
dark  blue  for  the  body  work  would  go  quite  well, 
with  a  bright  magenta  for  the  trimmings,  and  laid  in 
a  stock  of  paint  and  brushes,  and  possessed  his  soul 
in  patience. 

So  one  afternoon,  arriving  home  burdened  with 
the  spoils  of  Martin's  Junction,  great  was  Mrs. 
Burke's  astonishment  and  wrath  when  she  discovered 
the  porch  resplendent  in  dark  blue  and  magenta. 

"Sakes  alive !  Have  I  got  to  live  inside  of  that," 
she  snorted.  "Why,  it's  the  worst  lookin'  thing  I 
ever  saw.  If  I  don't  settle  him"  she  added,  " — 
" — paintin'  my  porch  as  if  it  belonged  to  him — and 
me  as  well,"  she  added  ambiguously.  And,  catching 
up  her  sunbonnet,  she  Hastened  over  to  her  neigh 
bor's  and  inquired  for  Jonathan.  "Sure,  he's  gone  to 
Martin's  Junction  to  see  his  brother',  Mrs.  Burke. 
He  said  he'd  stay  over  night,  and  I  needn't  come  in 
again  till  to-morrow  dinner-time,"  Mary  McGuire 
replied. 

Hepsey  hastened  home,  and  gathering  all  the  rags 
she  could  find,  she  summoned  Nickey  and  Mullen,  one 
of  the  men  from  the  farm,  and  they  worked  with 
turpentine  for  nearly  two  hours,  cleaning  off  the  fresh 


COULEUR  DE  ROSE  229 

paint  from  the  porch.  Then  she  sent  Nickey  down 
to  the  hardware  store  for  some  light  gray  paint  and 
some  vivid  scarlet  paint,  and  a  bit  of  dryer.  It  did 
not  take  very  long  to  repaint  her  porch  gray — every 
trace  of  the  blue  and  the  magenta  having  been  re 
moved  by  the  vigorous  efforts  of  the  three. 

When  it  was  finished,  she  opened  the  can  of  scar 
let,  and  pouring  in  a  large  quantity  of  dryer  she  sent 
Nickey  over  to  see  if  Mary  McGuire  had  gone  home. 
All  three  set  to  work  that  evening  to  paint  the  porch 
in  front  of  Jonathan's  house.  At  first  Mullen  pro 
tested  anxiously  that  it  was  none  of  his  business  to 
be  painting  another  man's  porch,  but  Mrs.  Burke 
gave  him  a  look  which  changed  his  convictions;  so 
he  and  Nickey  proceeded  gleefully  to  fulfill  their  ap 
pointed  task,  while  she  got  supper. 

When  the  work  was  quite  finished.  Hepsey  went 
over  to  inspect  it,  and  remarked  thoughtfully  to  her 
self :  "I  should  think  that  a  half  pint  of  dryer  might 
be  able  to  get  in  considerable  work  before  to-morrow 
noon.  I  hope  Jonathan'll  like  scarlet.  To  be  sure 
it  does  look  rather  strlkin'  on  a  white  house;  but  then 
variety  helps  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  a  dead  alive 
town  like  Durford;  and  if  he  don't  like  it  plain,  he 
can  trim  it  green.  I'll  teach  him  to  come  paintin'  my 
house  without  so  much  as  a  by-your-leave,  or  with- 


23o  HEPSEY  BURKE 

your-leave,   lettin'    the   whole  place   think  things." 

As  it  happened,  Jonathan  returned  late  that  night 
to  Durford — quite  too  late  to  see  the  transformation 
of  his  own  front  porch,  and  since  he  entered  by  the 
side  door  as  usual,  he  did  not  even  smell  the  new 
paint.  The  next  morning  he  sauntered  over  to  Thun 
der  Cliff,  all  agog  for  his  reward,  and  Mrs.  Burke 
greeted  him  at  her  side  door,  smiling  sweetly. 

"Good  mornin',  Jonathan.  It  was  awful  good  of 
you  to  paint  my  front  porch.  It  has  needed  paintin' 
for  some  time  now,  but  I  never  seemed  to  get  around 
to  it." 

"Don't  mention  it,  Hepsey,"  Jonathan  replied  af 
fably.  "Don't  mention  it.  You're  always  doin'  some- 
thin'  for  me,  and  it's  a  pity  if  I  can't  do  a  little  thing 
like  that  for  you  once  in  a  while." 

Hepsey  had  strolled  round  to  the  front,  as  if  to 
admire  his  work,  Jonathan  following.  Suddenly  he 
came  to  a  halt;  his  jaw  dropped,  and  he  stared  as  if 
he  had  gone  out  of  his  senses. 

"Such  a  lovely  color;  gray  just  suits  the  house,  you 
know,"  Mrs.  Burke  observed.  "You  certainly  ought 
to  have  been  an  artist,  Jonathan.  Any  man  with  such 
an  eye  for  color  ought  not  to  be  wastin'  his  time  on  a 
farm." 

Jonathan  still  gazed  at  the  porch  in  amazement, 


COULEUR  DE  ROSE  231 

blinked  hard,  wiped  his  eyes  and  his  glasses  with  his 
handkerchief,  and  looked  again. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?  Have  you  a  head 
ache?"  Hepsey  inquired  solicitously. 

"No,  I  haven't  got  no  headache;  but  when  I  left 
that  porch  yesterday  noon  it  was  blue,  and  now  I'm 
blamed  if  it  don't  seem  gray.  Does  it  look  gray-like 
to  you,  Hepsey?" 

"Why  certainly!  What's  that  you  say?  Do  you 
say  you  painted  it  blue?  That  certainly's  mighty 
queer.  But  then  you  know  some  kinds  of  paint  fade 
—some  kinds  do  !"  She  nodded,  looking  suspiciously 
at  the  work. 

"Fade!"  Jonathan  sneered.  "Paints  don't  fade  by 
moonlight  in  one  night.  That  isn't  no  faded  blue. 
It's  just  plain  gray.  I  must  be  goin*  color  blind,  or 
something." 

"It  looks  gray  to  me,  and  I'm  glad  it  is  gray,  so 
don't  you  worry  about  it,  Jonathan.  Blue  would  be 
somethin'  awful  on  the  front  of  a  white  house,  you 
know." 

"Well,"  continued  the  bewildered  Junior  Warden, 
"I'm  blessed  if  this  isn't  the  queerest  thing  I  ever  see 
in  all  my  born  days.  If  I  catch  the  fellow  that  sold 
me  that  paint,  I'll  make  it  lively  for  him  or  my  name 
isn't  Jackson." 


232  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"OH,  I  wouldn't  do  anything  like  that!  What  dif 
ference  does  it  make,  so  long  as  I  like  the  color  my 
self;  it's  my  house.  I  should  have  been  very  much 
put  out  if  you'd  painted  it  blue ;  yes,  I  should." 

"But  I  don't  like  to  be  cheated  down  at  the  store; 
and  I  wont,  by  gum !  They  said  it  was  best  quality 
paint !  I'll  go  down  to  Crosscut's  and  see  about  this 
business,  right  now.  I've  traded  with  him  nigh  on 
twenty  years,  and  he  don't  bamboozle  me  that  way." 

Hepsey  turned  away  choking  with  laughter,  and 
retreated  to  her  kitchen. 

Jonathan  started  back  towards  his  house  to  get  his 
hat  and  coat,  and  then  for  the  first  time  he  caught 
sight  of  his  own  porch,  done  in  flaming  scarlet,  which 
fairly  seemed  to  radiate  heat  in  the  brilliant  sunlight. 
He  stood  motionless  for  nearly  a  minute,  paralyzed. 
Then  the  color  began  to  rise  in  his  neck  and  face  as 
he  muttered  under  his  breath: 

"Hm !  I'm  on  to  the  whole  business  now.  I  ought 
to  have  known  that  Hepsey  would  get  the  best  of 
me.  I  guess  I  wont  go  down  to  Crosscut's  after  all." 

Then  he  walked  up  to  the  porch  and  touched  the 
scarlet  paint  with  his  finger  and  remarked: 

"Set  harder  than  a  rock,  by  gum !  She  must  have 
used  a  whole  lot  of  dryer.  I'll  get  even  with  her  for 
this.  See  if  I  don't." 


COULEUR  DE  ROSE  233 

In  the  afternoon  Jonathan  brought  over  some  fine 
apples  and  presented  them  to  Hepsey,  who  was  knit 
ting  on  her  side  porch.  She  thanked  him  for  the  gift, 
and  the  conversation  drifted  from  one  thing  to  an 
other  while  she  waited  for  the  expected  outburst  of 
reproach  which  she  knew  would  come  sooner  or  later. 
But  curiously  enough,  Jonathan  was  more  cheery  and 
cordial  than  usual,  and  made  no  allusion  whatever  to 
the  scarlet  porch,  which  was  conspicuously  visible 
from  where  they  sat.  Again  and  again  Hepsey  led 
the  conversation  around  to  the  point  where  it  seemed 
as  if  he  must  break  covert,  but  he  remained  oblivious, 
and  changed  the  subject  readily.  Not  a  word  on  the 
subject  passed  his  lips  that  afternoon. 

Then,  from  day  to  day  the  neighbors  called  and 
inquired  of  her  if  Jackson  had  gone  off  his  head,  or 
what  was  the  matter.  His  flaming  porch  outraged 
Durford's  sense  of  decency.  She  was  at  her  wits  end 
to  answer,  without  actually  lying  or  compromising 
herself;  so  the  only  thing  she  said  was  that  she  had 
noticed  that  he  had  been  acting  a  bit  peculiar  lately, 
now  they  mentioned  it.  ^\s  time  went  on,  the  scarlet 
porch  became  the  talk  of  the  town.  It  was  duly  dis 
cussed  at  the  sewing  society,  and  the  reading  club, 
and  the  general  sentiment  was  practically  unanimous 
that  Jackson  must  be  suffering  from  incipient  cataract 


234  HEPSEY  BURKE 

or  senile  dementia,  and  needed  a  guardian.  Even 
Mary  McGuire  remarked  to  Mrs.  Burke  that  she  was 
afraid  "that  there  front  porch  would  sure  set  the 
house  on  fire,  if  it  wasn't  put  out  before."  Every 
body  agreed  that  if  his  wife  had  lived,  the  thing 
never  could  have  happened. 

Meantime,  Jonathan  went  about  his  daily  business, 
serene  and  happy,  apparently  oblivious  of  the  fact 
that  there  was  anything  unusual  in  the  decoration  of 
his  house.  When  his  friends  began  to  chaff  him  about 
the  porch  he  seemed  surprised,  and  guessed  it  was 
his  privilege  to  paint  his  house  any  color  he  had  a 
mind  to,  and  there  was  no  law  ag'in*  it;  it  was  no 
body's  business  but  his  own.  Tastes  in  color  dif 
fered,  and  there  was  no  reason  in  the  world  why 
all  houses  should  be  painted  alike.  He  liked  variety 
himself,  and  nobody  could  say  that  scarlet  wasn't  a 
real  cheerful  color  on  a  white  house. 

Occasionaly  people  who  were  driving  by  stopped 
to  contemplate  the  porch;  and  the  Durford  Daily 
Bugle  devoted  a  long  facetious  paragraph  to  the  mat 
ter.  All  of  which  Mrs.  Burke  knew  very  well,  and  it 
was  having  its  effect  on  her  nerves.  The  porch  was 
the  most  conspicuous  object  in  view  from  Hepsey's 
sitting-room  windows,  and  every  time  she  entered  the 
room  she  found  herself  looking  at  the  flaming  terror 


COULEUR  DE  ROSE  235 

with  increasing  exasperation.  Verily,  if  Jonathan 
wanted  revenge  he  was  getting  far  more  than  he 
knew:  the  biter  was  badly  bit.  The  matter  came  to 
a  crisis  one  day,  when  Jonathan  concluded  a  discus 
sion  with  Mrs.  Burke  about  the  pasture  fence.  She 
burst  out  abruptly: 

"Say,  Jonathan  Jackson,  why  in  the  name  of  con 
science  don't  you  paint  your  porch  a  Christian  color? 
It's  simply  awful,  and  I'm  not  goin'  to  sit  in  my 
house  and  have  to  look  at  it  all  winter." 

Jonathan  did  not  seem  greatly  stirred,  and  replied 
in  an  absent-minded  way: 

"Why  don't  you  move  your  sittin'  room  over  to 
the  other  side  of  the  house,  Hepsey?  Then  you 
wouldn't  have  to  see  it.  Don't  you  like  scarlet?" 

"No,  I  don't  like  it,  and  if  you  don't  paint  it  out, 
I  will" 

"Don't  do  nothin'  rash,  Hepsey.  You  know  some 
times  colors  fade  in  the  moonlight — some  colors,  that 
is.  Maybe  that  scarlet  porch'll  turn  to  a  light  gray 
if  you  let  it  alone." 

Mrs.  Burke  could  stand  it  no  longer;  so,  laying 
down  her  work  she  exploded  her  pent-up  wrath : 

"Jonathan  Jackson,  if  that  paint  isn't  gone  before 
to-morrow,  I'll  come  over  and  paint  it  myself." 

"Oh,  that  isn't  necessary,  Hepsey.     And  it  might 


236  HEPSEY  BURKE 

set  people  talkin'.  But  if  you  wont  move  your  sittin'- 
room  to  the  other  side  of  your  own  house,  why  don't 
you  move  it  over  to  my  house?  You  wouldn't  see  so 
much  of  the  red  paint  then." 

Hepsey  snorted  and  spluttered  in  baffled  rage. 

"Now,  now,  Hepsey,"  soothed  Jonathan,  "if  that 
don't  suit  you,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do :  I'll  paint  it 
over  myself  on  one  condition !" 

"And  what's  that,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"That  you'll  marry  me,"  snapped  Jonathan  hun 
grily. 

Instead  of  resenting  such  bold  tactics  on  the  part 
of  her  suitor,  Mrs.  Burke  gazed  at  him  a  long  time 
with  a  rather  discouraged  look  on  her  face. 

"Land  sakes !"  she  exclaimed  at  last  with  assumed 
weariness  and  a  whimsical  smile,  "I  didn't  know  I'd 
ever  come  to  this ;  but  I  guess  I'll  have  to  marry  you 
to  keep  you  from  makin'  another  kind  of  fool  of  your 
self;  widowers  are  such  helpless  mortals,  and  you  cer 
tainly  do  need  a  guardian."  She  shook  her  head  at 
him  despondently. 

Jonathan  advanced  towards  her  deliberately,  and 
clinched  the  matter : 

"Well,  Hepsey,  seein'  that  we're  engaged " 

"Engaged?  What  do  you  mean?  Get  away, 
you "  She  rose  from  her  chair  in  a  hurry. 


COULEUR  DE  ROSE  237 

"Now  Hepsey,  a  bargain's  a  bargain:  you  just  said 
you'd  have  to  marry  me,  and  I  guess  the  sooner  you 
do  it  and  have  it  over  with,  the  better.  So,  seein' 
that  we  are  engaged  to  be  married,  as  I  was  about  to 
remark  when  you  interrupted  me  ..."  Relentless 
ly  he  approached  her  once  more.  She  retreated  a  step 
or  two. 

"Well !  Sakes  alive,  Jonathan !  Whatever's  come 
over  you  to  make  you  so  masterful.  Well,  yes  then 
— I  suppose  a  bargain's  a  bargain,  all  right.  But  be 
fore  your  side  of  it's  paid  up  you've  got  to  go  right 
over  and  paint  that  porch  of  yours  a  respectable 
color." 

So,  for  once,  Hepsey's  strategy  had  been  manipu 
lated  to  her  own  defeat:  Jonathan  went  off  to  town 
with  flying  colors,  and  bought  himself  a  can  of  pure 
white  paint. 


'CM 


CMPTE! 

(ClffiM 

rnswinr 


lufi 

IT  was  eleven  o'clock  at  night.    Mrs.  Betty  had 
retired,  while  her  husband  was  still  struggling 
to  finish  a  sermon  on  the  importance  of  foreign 
missions.    Ordinarily,  the  work  would  have  been  con 
genial  and  easy  for  him,  because  he  was  an  enthusiast 
in  the  matter  of  missionary  work:  but  now  for  some 
reason  his  thoughts  were  confused;  his  enthusiasm 
was  lacking,  and  his  pen  dragged.    He  tried  hard  to 
pull  himself  together,  but  over  and  over  again  the 
question  kept  repeating  itself  in  his  tired  brain :  Why 

238 


MUSCULAR  CHRISTIANITY         239 

should  the  Church  support  foreign  missions,  while 
she  lets  her  hard  working  clergy  at  home  suffer  and 
half  starve  in  their  old  age,  and  even  fails  to  give 
them  decent  support  while  they  are  working  in  their 
prime  ?  Why  should  a  doctor  reach  his  highest  pro 
fessional  value  at  seventy,  and  a  parson  be  past  the 
"dead-line"  at  forty-five?  Here  he  was,  subject  to 
the  caprice  and  ill-will  of  a  sour  and  miserly  Senior 
Warden,  and  a  cowed  and  at  least  partially  "bossed" 
vestry — and  he,  the  rector,  with  no  practical  power 
of  appeal  for  the  enforcement  of  his  legal  contract. 
It  was  only  thanks  to  Jonathan  Jackson,  the  Junior 
Warden,  that  any  revenue  at  all  reached  him;  for 
Bascom  had  used  every  grain  of  influence  he  pos 
sessed  to  reduce  or  stop  Maxwell's  salary.  Mrs. Betty, 
plucky  and  cheery  though  she  was,  already  showed 
the  results  of  the  weary  struggle :  it  was  not  the  work 
that  took  the  color  from  her  cheeks  and  the  fresh 
ness  from  her  face,  but  the  worry  incidental  to  causes 
which,  in  any  other  calling  in  life  but  his,  would  be 
removable. 

Already  he  had  parted  with  a  considerable  number 
of  his  books  to  eke  out,  and  meet  the  many  calls  upon 
him — urgent  and  insistent  calls.  It  became  abun 
dantly  clear,  as  his  mind  strayed  from  the  manuscript 
before  him  and  turned  to  their  immediate  situation, 


240  HEPSEY  BURKE 

that  he  was  already  forced  to  choose  between  two 
alternatives :  either  he  must  give  up,  and  own  himself 
and  all  the  better  influences  in  the  place  beaten  by 
Bascom  and  his  satellites;  or  he  must  find  some  means 
of  augmenting  his  means  of  living,  without  allowing 
his  time  and  energy  to  be  monopolized  to  the  neglect 
of  essential  parish  and  church  duties. 

As  he  thought  on  these  things,  somehow  his  en 
thusiasm  for  foreign  missions  ebbed  away,  and  left 
him  desperately  tired  and  worried.  He  made  several 
abortive  attempts  to  put  some  fire  into  his  missionary 
plea,  but  it  was  useless;  and  he  was  about  to  give 
up  when  he  heard  Mrs.  Betty's  gentle  voice  inquiring 
from  the  next  room : 

"May  I  come  in  ?  Haven't  you  finished  that  wretch 
ed  old  missionary  sermon  yet?" 

"No,  dear;  but  why  aren't  you  asleep?" 

"I  have  been  anxious  about  you.  You  are  worn 
out  and  you  need  your  rest.  Now  just  let  the  heathen 
rage,  and  go  to  bed." 

Maxwell  made  no  reply,  but  picked  at  his  manu 
script  aimlessly  with  his  pen.  Betty  looked  into  his 
face,  and  then  the  whole  stress  of  the  situation 
pierced  her;  and  sitting  down  by  his  side  she  dropped 
her  head  on  his  shoulder  and  with  one  arm  around 
his  neck  stroked  his  cheek  with  her  fingers.  For  a  few 


MUSCULAR  CHRISTIANITY         241 

moments  neither  of  them  spoke;  and  then  Maxwell 
said  quietly: 

"Betty,  love,  I  am  going  to  work." 

"But  Donny,  you  are  one  of  the  hardest  working 
men  in  this  town.  What  do  you  mean?" 

"Oh,  I  mean  that  I  am  going  to  find  secular  work, 
the  work  of  a  day  laborer,  if  necessary.  Matters 
have  come  to  a  crisis,  and  I  simply  cannot  stand  this 
sort  of  thing  any  longer.  If  I  were  alone  I  might 
get  along;  but  I  have  you,  sweetheart,  and " 

Maxwell  stopped  suddenly,  and  the  brave  little  wo 
man  at  his  side  said: 

"Yes,  I  know  all  about  it,  Donald,  and  I  think  you 
are  fully  justified  in  doing  anything  you  think  best." 

"And  you  wouldn't  feel  ashamed  of  me  if  I  han 
dled  a  shovel  or  dug  in  the  street?" 

"I'd  be  the  proudest  woman  in  the  town,  Donny; 
you  are  just  your  fine  dear  self,  whatever  you  do ;  and 
if  you  have  the  courage  to  put  your  pride  in  your 
pocket  and  work  in  overalls,  that  would  make  you  all 
the  finer  to  me.  Manual  work  would  relieve  the  ten 
sion  of  your  nerves.  You  seem  to  be  in  fairly  good 
physical  condition.  Don't  you  worry  one  bit  about 
me.  I  am  going  to  wash  some  lace  curtains  for  Mrs. 
Roscoe- Jones,  and  that  will  keep  me  out  of  mischief. 
Now,  if  you  will  allow  me,  I  am  going  to  tear  up 


242  HEPSEY  BURKE 

that  sermon  on  foreign  missions,  and  start  a  little 
home  mission  of  my  own  by  sending  you  to  bed." 

The  second  morning  after  this  ruthless  destruction 
of  Maxwell's  eloquent  plea  for  the  mission  at  Banko- 
lulu,  Danny  Dolan  drove  up  to  the  tent-rectory  at 
half-past  six,  and  Maxwell  emerged  and  jumped  up 
by  Danny's  side,  dressed  in  a  rather  soiled  suit  of 
overalls:  Danny  was  a  teamster,  a  good  looking 
youth,  and  a  devoted  friend  of  Maxwell's  since  the 
parson  had  taken  care  of  him  and  his  family  through 
an  attack  of  malignant  diphtheria.  But  while  Danny 
was  a  most  loyal  friend,  he  was  not  of  the  emotional 
type,  and  so,  when  Maxwell  had  seated  himself  com 
fortably  and  had  lighted  his  briar  pipe,  Danny  started 
down  the  road  at  a  vigorous  pace,  grinning  broadly 
at  Maxwell's  attire  as  he  remarked: 

"So  you're  really  goin'  to  work  like  the  rest  of  us, 
I  reckon." 

"Right  you  are,  Danny — four  days  a  week,  any 
how.  Don't  I  look  like  the  real  thing?" 

"Sure  you  do;  only  you  better  not  shave  every  day, 
and  you'll  have  to  get  your  hands  dirty  before  you 
can  fool  anybody,  and  maybe  your  face'll  give  you 
away  even  then.  Be  you  comfortable  in  them  clothes?" 

"Sure  thing;  I'm  never  so  contented  as  I  am  in 
working  clothes." 


MUSCULAR  CHRISTIANITY         243 

"That's  all  right.  You're  the  stuff.  But  how 
about  the  proper  old  maids  in  the  parish  who  ogle 
and  dance  around  you;  they  wont  cotton  to  your 
clothes  a  little  bit.  They'll  think  you're  degradin'  of 
yourself  and  disgracin'  of  the  parish.  Here  you  be 
ridin'  on  a  stone  wagon,  and  you  don't  look  a  bit 
better  than  me,  if  I  do  say  it." 

"I'm  afraid  they'll  have  to  survive  the  shock  some 
how  or  other;  a  man  has  to  dress  according  to  his 
work." 

"Hm !  Now  there's  that  there  Mrs.  Roscoe- Jones 
and  Miss  Bascom;  I'll  bet  if  they  saw  you  in  that  rig 
they'd  throw  a  fit." 

"Oh  no;  it  isn't  as  bad  as  that,  Danny." 

"They'd  think  you'd  been  disgraced  for  life,  to  be 
come  a  laborin'  man,  you  bet." 

"A  what?" 

"A  laborin'  man." 

"Then  you  think  that  a  parson  doesn't  labor?" 

"Well,  I  always  thought  that  bein'  a  parson  was  a 
dead  easy  job,  and  a  nice  clean  job  too." 

"Danny,"  Maxwell  inquired  after  a  momentary 
silence,  "don't  you  suppose  that  a  man  labors  with  his 
brain  as  well  as  with  his  muscles?  And  sometimes  a 
parson  labors  with  his  heart,  and  that  is  the  hardest 
kind  of  work  a  man  ever  does.  The  man  who  is  most 


244  HEPSEY  BURKE 

of  a  laboring  man  is  the  man  who  labors  with  every 
power  and  faculty  he  possesses." 

"Well,  now,  I  guess  that  may  be  right,  if  you  look 
at  it  that  way." 

"Yes;  you  speak  of  a  laboring  man,  and  you  mean 
a  man  who  uses  his  muscles  and  lets  his  brain  and  his 
feelings  die  of  starvation.  To  try  to  help  some  one 
you're  fond  of,  who  is  going  to  the  bad,  is  the  most 
nerve-racking  and  exhausting  work  which  any  man 
can  possibly  do." 

"Hm !  you  always  was  a  dum  queer  parson,  more 
like  the  rest  of  us,  somehow.  And  you  don't  hold 
that  you're  disgracin'  your  profession  ridin'  with  me, 
and  shovelin'  gravel?" 

"I  don't  seem  to  be  worrying  much  about  it,  do  I?" 

"No,"  he  agreed — and  added,  "and  I'm  dum  sure 
I  would  like  a  day  off  now  and  then  from  preachin' 
and  callin'  on  old  maids,  if  I  was  you.  But  there's 
times  I  might  be  willin'  for  to  let  you  take  my  work 
for  yours." 

"Now  see  here,  if  you'll  do  my  work  for  a  few 
days,  I'll  do  yours." 

"Well,  what'd  I  have  to  do?  I  aint  makin'  any 
contract  without  specifications." 

"Well,  suppose  we  say  you  do  my  work  Saturday 
and  Sunday.  That  means  you  finish  up  two  sermons, 


MUSCULAR  CHRISTIANITY         245 

which  must  be  original  and  interesting  when  you  are 
preaching  to  the  same  set  of  people  about  a  hundred 
and  fifty  times  a  year.  Then  you  must  go  and  see  a 
woman  who  is  always  complaining,  and  listen  to  her 
woes  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour.  Then  you  must 
go  and  see  what  you  can  do  for  Tom  Bradsaw,  who 
is  dying  of  tuberculosis.  Then  you  must  conduct  a 
choir  rehearsal — not  always  the  highest  gratification 
of  a  musical  ear.  Sunday,  you  must  conduct  four  ser 
vices  and  try  to  rouse  a  handful  of  people,  who  stare 
at  you  from  the  back  pews,  to  some  higher  ideals  of 
life  and  common  decency,  Then " 

"Oh,  heavens,  man!  Sure,  an'  that's  enough;  I 
stick  to  the  stone  wagon  every  time." 

"You'd  be  a  fool  if  you  didn't,"  replied  Maxwell 
straightly.  "Then  again  you  get  your  pay  promptly 
every  Saturday  night.  I  never  know  when  I  am  going 
to  get  mine." 

"You  don't?  Begad,  and  I  wouldn't  work  for  any 
body  if  I  wasn't  paid  prompt.  I'd  sue  the  Bishop  or 
the  Pope,  or  somebody." 

"Parsons  don't  sue:  it's  considered  improper." 

"Well,  well,"  muttered  the  astonished  Danny. 
"Be  you  sure  you  can  shovel  stone  then?"  he 
asked. 

Maxwell  unbuttoned  his  wristband,  rolled  up  his 


246  HEPSEY  BURKE 

sleeve.  "If  I  can't,  I'll  know  the  reason  why,"  he 
remarked  tersely. 

"That's  the  stuff,"  laughed  Danny,  looking  at  Max 
well's  muscle.  "I  guess  I  don't  want  to  meet  you  out 
walkin'  after  dark  without  a  gun.  But  say,  why  don't 
you  swat  the  Bishop  one,  and  get  your  pay?" 

"The  Bishop  isn't  responsible." 

"Well,  I'll  bet  I  know  who  is,  dang  him;  and  I'd 
like  to  swat  him  one  for  you,  the  miserable  old  bag- 
of-bones." 

"Never  you  mind,  Danny;  I  can  take  care  of  my 
self." 

"Sure  you  can,  and  I  guess  you're  a  laborin'  man 
all  right,  even  if  you  don't  belong  to  the  Union.  Why 
don't  you  get  up  a  parson's  Union  and  go  on  strike  ? 
By  Jove !  I  would.  Let  your  parish  go  to " 

"Danny,  don't  you  think  it  looks  like  rain?" 

"No,  neither  do  you;  but  here  we  are  at  the  stone 
pile.  My!  but  how  the  fellers  will  grin  when  they 
see  a  tenderfoot  like  you,  and  a  parson  at  that, 
shovelin'  stone.  But  they  wont  think  any  the  less  of 
you  for  it,  mind  you,"  he  reassured  his  companion. 

Maxwell  knew  most  of  the  men,  and  greeted  them 
by  name,  and  when  he  rolled  up  his  sleeves  and  began 
work,  they  quickly  saw  that  he  was  "no  slouch,"  and 
that  he  did  not  "soldier,"  or  shirk,  as  many  of  them 


MUSCULAR  CHRISTIANITY         247 

did — though  sometimes  they  were  inclined  to  rest  on 
their  shovels  and  chaff  him  good-naturedly,  and  ask 
him  If  he  had  his  Union  card  with  Eim. 

Shoveling  stone  is  no  picnic,  as  Danny  and  his  fel 
lows  would  have  put  it.  It  is  not  only  the  hard,  ob 
structed  thrust,  thrust  of  the  shovel  into  the  heap  of 
broken  stone,  and  the  constant  lift  and  swing  of  each 
shovelful  into  the  wagon;  it  is  the  slow  monotony  of 
repetition  of  unvarying  motion  that  becomes  most  irk 
some  to  the  tyro,  and  wears  down  the  nervous  system 
of  the  old  hand  till  his  whole  being  is  leveled  to  the 
insensibility  of  a  soulless  machine. 

But,  though  new  to  the  process  itself,  Maxwell  was 
not  ignorant  of  its  effects ;  and  soon  he  found  himself 
distracting  his  attention  from  the  strain  of  the  mus 
cular  tension  by  fitting  the  action  to  the  rhythm  of 
some  old  sailor's  chanteys  he  had  learned  at  college. 
The  effect  amused  the  men ;  and  then  as  some  of  them 
caught  the  beat,  and  others  joined  in,  soon  the  whole 
gang  was  ringing  the  changes  on  the  simple  airs,  and 
found  it  a  rousing  and  cheerful  diversion  from  the 
monotony  of  labor. 

If  a  pause  came,  soon  one  of  them  would  call  out : 
"Come  on,  Parson;  strike  up  the  hymn." 

One  by  one  the  wagons  were  loaded,  and  driven  to 
the  road.  After  they  had  filled  the  last  wagon,  Danny 


248  HEPSEY  BURKE 

put  on  his  coat,  and  he  and  Maxwell  mounted  and 
drove  out  of  the  yard. 

"Where  are  we  going  with  this?"  Maxwell  in 
quired. 

"Down  on  the  state  road,  first  turn  to  the  left." 

"Why,  that  must  be  near  Willow  Bluff,  Mr.  Bas- 
com's  place,  isn't  it?" 

"Right  opposite.  Bascom,  he  come  out  yesterday, 
and  said  he  wouldn't  stand  for  that  steam  roller  snort- 
in'  back  and  forth  in  front  of  his  house.  But  Jim 
Ferris  told  him  he  had  his  orders  from  Williamson, 
and  he  wasn't  goin'  to  be  held  up  by  nobody  until 
Williamson  told  him  to  stop.  Jim  isn't  any  kind  of 
fool." 

When  they  arrived  in  front  of  Willow  Bluff,  they 
stopped,  dismounted,  and  dumped  the  crushed  stone, 
and  then  returned  to  the  stone  yard.  At  noon  they 
camped  out  on  the  curb  in  front  of  Willow  Bluff. 
After  Maxwell  had  done  full  justice  to  the  contents 
of  his  dinner  pail,  he  stretched  himself  full  length  on 
the  grass  for  a  few  moments,  chatting  with  his  mates 
in  friendly  fashion.  Then  he  went  over  to  the  roller 
and  assisted  the  engineer  in  "oiling  up."  Being  a 
novice  at  the  business,  he  managed  to  get  his  hands 
black  with  oil,  and  smeared  a  streak  across  one  cheek, 
which,  while  it  helped  to  obscure  his  identity,  did  not 


MUSCULAR  CHRISTIANITY         249 

add  to  his  facial  beauty.  He  was  blissfully  uncon 
scious  of  this.  About  three  o'clock  Bascom  returned 
from  his  office,  just  as  Maxwell  was  dismounting 
from  the  wagon  after  bringing  a  load.  At  first  Bas 
com  did  not  recognize  the  rector,  but  a  second  glance 
brought  the  awful  truth  home  to  his  subliminal  self, 
and  he  stopped  and  stared  at  Maxwell,  stricken  dumb. 
Maxwell  politely  touched  his  hat,  and  smilingly  re 
marked  that  it  was  a  fine  day.  Bascom  made  no  re 
ply  at  first. 

"Can  it  be  possible  that  this  is  you,  Mr.  Maxwell?" 
he  almost  whispered,  at  last. 

"It  is,  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and  be 
lief." 

"What  in  the  name  of  heaven  are  you  working  with 
these  men  for,  if  I  may  ask?" 

"To  earn  sufficient  money  to  pay  my  grocer's  bill." 

Bascom  colored  hotly,  and  sputtered : 

"I  consider  it  a  shame  and  a  disgrace  to  the  parish 
to  have  our  rector  in  filthy  clothes,  drawing  stone 
with  a  lot  of  ruffians." 

Maxwell  colored  as  hotly,  and  replied : 

"They  are  not  ruffians,  sir;  they  are  honest  men, 
supporting  their  families  in  a  perfectly  legitimate  way, 
giving  their  labor  and" — significantly — "receiving 
their  pay  for  it." 


250  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"And  you,  sir,  are  engaged  to  work  for  the  parish, 
as  a  minister  of  God." 

"Unfortunately,  I  am  not  being  paid  by  the  parish; 
that  is  why  I  am  working  here.  Neither  my  wife  nor 
myself  is  going  to  starve." 

"You  haven't  any  pride,  sir!"  Bascom  fumed,  his 
temper  out  of  control.  "We  have  had  many  incom 
petent  rectors,  but  this  really  surpasses  anything.  We 
have  never  had  anyone  like  you." 

Maxwell  paused  again  in  his  work,  and,  leaning  on 
his  shovel,  looked  Bascom  in  the  eye: 

"By  which  you  mean  that  you  have  never  had  any 
one  who  was  independent  enough  to  grip  the  situa 
tion  in  both  hands  and  do  exactly  what  he  thought 
best,  independent  of  your  dictation." 

"I  will  not  converse  with  you  any  more.  You  are 
insulting." 

"As  the  corporation  is  paying  me  for  my  time,  I 
prefer  work  to  conversation." 

Bascom  strode  along  the  road  towards  his  home. 
Danny  Dolan,  who  had  been  a  shameless  auditor  of 
this  conversation,  from  the  other  side  of  the  wagon, 
was  beside  himself  with  delight: 

"Holy  Moses!  but  didn't  you  give  it  to  the  old 
man.  And  here  be  all  your  adorers  from  town  after 
comin'  to  tea  at  the  house,  and  you  lookin'  like  the 


MUSCULAR  CHRISTIANITY        251 

stoker  of  an  engine  with  black  grease  half  an  incK 
thick  on  your  cheek." 

Maxwell  pulled  out  his  handkerchief,  and  made 
an  abortive  effort  to  get  his  face  clean. 

"How  is  it  now,  Danny?" 

"Oh,  it  aint  nearly  as  thick  in  any  one  place;  it's 
mostly  all  over  your  face  now."  Then  Danny  laughed 
irreverently  again.  "Sure,  an'  you  certainly  do  look 
like  the  real  thing  now." 

Maxwell  was  raking  gravel  when  the  guests  for 
the  afternoon  tea  were  passing;  and  though  he  did 
not  look  up,  he  fully  realized  that  they  had  recog 
nized  him,  from  the  buzz  of  talk  and  the  turning  of 
heads. 

Danny  returned  from  his  safer  distance  when  he 
saw  the  coast  was  clear.  Maxwell  had  a  shrewd  sus 
picion  that  the  boy  had  taken  himself  off  believing  it 
might  embarrass  Maxwell  less  if  any  of  the  ladies 
should  speak  to  him. 

"Did  none  of  'em  know  you,  then?"  he  asked. 

"Not  one  of  them  spoke;  I  guess  my  disguise  is 
pretty  complete." 

"Thank  hiven!"  Danny  exclaimed.  "Then  the 
crisis  is  passed  for  to-day  at  least,  and  your  reputa 
tion  is  saved;  but  if  you  don't  get  out  of  this  they'll 
be  comin'  out  again,  and  then  nobody  knows  what'll 


252  HEPSEY  BURKE 

happen.  Better  smear  some  more  oil  over  the  other 
cheek  to  cover  the  last  bit  of  dacency  left  in  you." 

At  the  end  of  the  day's  work,  Maxwell  threw  his 
shovel  into  Dolan's  wagon  and  jumped  up  on  the  seat 
with  him  and  drove  back  to  town. 

"Well,"  said  Maxwell's  friend,  delightedly,  "you 
done  a  mighty  good  day's  work  for  a  tenderfoot;  but 
you  done  more  with  that  old  Bascom  than  in  all  the 
rest  of  the  day  put  together.  My !  but  I  thought  I'd 
split  my  sides  to  see  you  puttin'  him  where  he  be 
longed,  and  you  lookin'  like  a  coal  heaver.  But  it's 
a  howlin'  shame  you  didn't  speak  to  them  women, 
goin'  all  rigged  up  for  the  party.  That  would' ve  been 
the  finishin'  touch." 

He  swayed  about  on  his  seat,  laughing  heartily, 
until  they  drew  up  before  the  rectory,  where  Mrs. 
Betty  was  waiting  to  greet  Maxwell. 

Danny  touched  his  cap  shyly — but  Betty  came  down 
to  the  wagon  and  gave  him  a  cheery  greeting. 

"Well — you've  brought  him  back  alive,  Mr.  Do- 
Ian,  anyway." 

"Yes  ma'am !  And  I  reckon  he'll  keep  you  busy 
puttin'  the  food  to  him,  if  he  eats  like  he  works:  he's 
a  glutton  for  work,  is  Mr.  Maxwell." 


llflt 


•III 


A  FEW  nights  later,  when  Maxwell  returned 
from  his  work  he  found  Mrs.  Burke  sitting 
on  the  front  platform  of  the  tent  with  Mrs. 
Betty;  and  having  washed,  and  changed  his  clothes, 
he  persuaded  their  visitor  to  stay  to  supper.    After 
supper  was  over  they  sat  out  doors,  chatting  of  Max 
well's  amusing  experiences. 

They  had  not  been  sitting  long  when  their  atten 
tion  was  attracted  by  a  noise  up  the  street,  and  going 
to  the  fence  they  saw  a  horse,  over  which  the  driver 

253 


254  HEPSEY  BURKE 

evidently  had  lost  control,  galloping  towards  them, 
with  a  buggy  which  was  swerving  from  side  to  side 
under  the  momentum  of  its  terrific  speed. 

Maxwell  rushed  into  the  middle  of  the  street  to 
see  if  he  could  be  of  any  assistance  in  stopping  the 
horse  and  preventing  a  catastrophe;  but  before  he 
could  get  near  enough  to  be  of  any  service  the  animal 
suddenly  shied,  the  buggy  gave  a  final  lurch,  over 
turned,  and  was  thrown  violently  against  a  telegraph 
pole.  The  horse,  freed,  dashed  on,  dragging  the 
shafts  and  part  of  the  harness.  The  occupant  of  the 
buggy  had  been  thrown  out  against  the  telegraph  pole 
with  considerable  force,  knocked  senseless,  and  lay 
in  the  gutter,  stained  with  blood  and  dirt.  Mrs. 
Burke  and  Betty  lifted  the  body  of  the  buggy,  while 
Maxwell  pulled  out  from  under  it  the  senseless  form 
of  a  man;  and  when  they  had  turned  him  over  and 
wiped  the  blood  from  his  face,  they  discovered,  to 
their  utter  amazement,  that  the  victim  was  no  less  a 
personage  than  the  Senior  Warden,  Sylvester  Bascom. 

Of  course  there  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  carry 
him  as  best  they  could  into  the  tent,  and  lay  him  on 
a  lounge.  Maxwell  ran  hastily  for  a  doctor,  while 
Hepsey  and  Mrs.  Betty  applied  restoratives,  washed 
the  face  of  the  injured  man,  and  bound  up  as  best 
they  could  what  appeared  to  be  a  serious  wound  on 


UNINVITED  GUESTS  255 

one  wrist,  and  another  on  the  side  of  his  head.  The 
doctor  responded  promptly,  and  after  a  thorough  ex 
amination  announced  that  Bascom  was  seriously  hurt, 
and  that  at  present  it  would  be  dangerous  to  remove 
him.  So  Mrs.  Betty  and  her  guest  removed  Max 
well's  personal  belongings,  and  improvised  a  bed  in 
the  front  room  of  the  tent,  into  which  Bascom  was 
lifted  with  the  greatest  care.  Having  done  what  he 
could,  the  doctor  departed,  promising  to  return  soon. 
In  about  twenty  minutes  there  were  signs  of  return 
ing  consciousness,  and  for  some  time  Bascom  looked 
about  him  in  a  dazed  way,  and  groaned  with  pain. 
Mrs.  Burke  decided  at  once  to  remain  all  night  with 
Mrs.  Betty,  and  assist  in  caring  for  the  warden  until 
Virginia  could  arrive  and  assume  charge  of  the  case. 
After  about  an  hour,  Bascom  seemed  to  be  fully  con 
scious  as  he  gazed  from  one  face  to  another,  and 
looked  wonderingly  at  the  canvas  tent  in  which  he 
found  himself.  Mrs.  Burke  bent  over  him  and  in 
quired  : 

"Are  you  in  much  pain,  Mr.  Bascom?" 
For  a  moment  or  two  the  Senior  Warden  made  no 
answer;  then  in  a  hoarse  whisper  he  inquired: 
"Where  am  I?    What  has  happened?" 
"Well,  you  see,  something  frightened  your  horse, 
and  your  buggy  was  overturned,  and  you  were  thrown 


256  HEPSEY  BURKE 

against  a  telegraph  pole  and  injured  more  or  less. 
We  picked  you  up  and  brought  you  in  here,  cleaned 
you  up,  and  tried  to  make  you  as  comfortable  as  pos 
sible.  The  doctor  has  been  here  and  looked  you  over, 
and  will  return  in  a  few  minutes." 

"Am  I  seriously  injured?" 

"You  have  two  bad  wounds,  and  have  evidently 
lost  a  good  deal  of  blood;  but  don't  worry.  Mrs. 
Betty  and  I  and  the  rest  of  us  will  take  good  care  of 
you  and  do  all  we  can  until  Virginia  is  able  to  take 
you  home  again." 

"Where  am  I?" 

A  curious  expression  of  mild  triumph  and  amuse 
ment  played  across  Mrs.  Burke's  face  as  she  replied: 

"You  are  in  Dnoald  Maxwell's  tent.  This  was  the 
nearest  place  where  we  could  bring  you  at  the  time 
of  the  accident." 

For  a  moment  a  vestige  of  color  appeared  in  Bas- 
com's  face,  and  he  whispered  hoarsely: 

"Why  didn't  you  take  me  home?" 

"Well,  we  were  afraid  to  move  you  until  the  doc 
tor  had  examined  you  thoroughly." 

The  patient  closed  his  eyes  wearily. 

It  was  evident  that  he  was  growing  weaker,  and 
just  as  the  doctor  returned,  he  again  lapsed  into  un 
consciousness.  The  doctor  felt  of  Bascom's  pulse, 


UNINVITED  GUESTS  257 

and  sent  Maxwell  hastily  for  Doctor  Field  for  con 
sultation.  For  fifteen  minutes  the  doctors  were  alone 
in  Bascom's  room,  and  then  Doctor  Field  called  Max 
well  in  and  quietly  informed  him  that  the  warden  had 
lost  so  much  blood  from  the  wound  in  the  wrist  that 
there  was  danger  of  immediate  collapse  unless  they 
resorted  to  extreme  measures,  and  bled  some  one  to 
supply  the  patient.  To  this  Maxwell  instantly  re 
plied: 

"I  am  strong  and  well.  There  is  no  reason  why 
you  should  hesitate  for  a  moment.  Send  for  your 
instruments  at  once;  but  my  wife  must  know  nothing 
of  it  until  it  is  all  over  with.  Tell  Mrs.  Burke  to 
take  her  over  to  Thunder  Cliff  for  an  hour  or  two, 
on  the  pretext  of  getting  some  bedding.  Yes,  I  insist 
on  having  my  own  way,  and  as  you  say,  there  is  no 
time  to  be  lost." 

Doctor  Field  took  Mrs.  Burke  aside,  and  the  wom 
en  immediately  departed  for  Thunder  Cliff.  The 
necessary  instruments  were  brought,  and  then  the 
three  men  entered  the  sick  room. 

In  about  twenty  minutes  Maxwell  came  out  of  the 
invalid's  room,  assisted  by  Doctor  Field,  and 
stretched  himself  on  the  bed. 

Bascom's  color  began  slowly  to  return;  his  pulse 
quickened,  and  Dr.  Field  remarked  to  his  colleague : 


258  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"Well,  I  think  the  old  chap  is  going  to  pull  through 
after  all;  but  it  was  a  mighty  close  squeak." 

Meanwhile,  the  messenger  who  had  been  sent  out 
to  Willow  Bluff  to  apprise  Virginia  of  her  father's 
accident  returned  with  the  information  that  Virginia 
had  left  the  day  before,  to  stay  with  friends,  and 
could  not  possibly  get  home  till  next  day.  It  was  de 
cided  to  telegraph  for  her;  and  in  the  meantime  the 
doctors  advised  that  Mr.  Bascom  be  left  quietly  in 
his  bed  at  the  new  "rectory,"  and  be  moved  home 
next  day,  after  having  recovered  some  of  his  lost 
strength.  Mrs.  Betty  and  Mrs.  Burke  took  turns  in 
watching  by  the  Invalid  that  night,  and  it  might  have 
been  observed  that  his  eyes  remained  closed,  even 
when  he  did  not  sleep,  while  Mrs.  Burke  was  in  at 
tendance,  but  that  he  watched  Mrs.  Betty  with  keen 
curiosity  and  wonder,  from  between  half-closed  lids, 
as  she  sat  at  the  foot  of  his  bed  sewing,  or  moved 
about  noiselessly  preparing  the  nourishment  pre 
scribed  for  him  by  the  doctors,  and  which  the  old 
gentleman  took  from  her  with  unusual  gentleness  and 
patience. 

It  was  Mrs.  Burke  who,  having  learned  of  the  time 
when  Virginia  was  expected  to  return  home,  drove 
out  to  Willow  Bluff  with  Mr.  Bascom,  and  assisted 
in  making  him  comfortable  there  before  his  daugh- 


UNINVITED  GUESTS  259 

ter's  arrival.  He  volunteered  no  word  on  their  way 
thither,  but  lay  back  among  his  cushions  and  pillows 
with  closed  eyes,  pale  and  exhausted — though  the  doc 
tors  assured  the  Maxwells  that  there  was  no  cause 
for  anxiety  on  the  score  of  his  removal,  when  they 
urged  that  he  be  left  in  their  care  until  he  had  re 
gained  more  strength. 

It  was  a  white  and  scared  Virginia  who  listened  to 
Hepsey's  account  of  all  that  had  happened — an  ac 
count  which  neither  over-stated  the  Bascoms'  debt  to 
the  Maxwells  nor  spared  Virginia's  guilty  conscience. 

When  she  found  that  her  father  had  been  the  guest 
of  the  Maxwells  and  that  they  had  played  the  part 
of  good  Samaritans  to  him  in  the  tent  in  which  the 
Senior  Warden  had  obliged  them  to  take  refuge,  she 
was  thoroughly  mortified,  and  there  was  a  struggle 
between  false  pride  and  proper  gratitude. 

"It  is  very  awkward,  is  it  not,  Mrs.  Burke?"  she 
said.  "I  ought  certainly  to  call  on  Mrs.  Maxwell  and 
thank  her — but — under  the  circumstances " 

"What  circumstances?"  asked  Hepsey. 

"Well,  you  know,  it  will  be  very  embarrassing  for 
me  to  go  to  Mr.  Maxwell's  tent  after  what  has  hap 
pened  between  him  and — my  father." 

"I'm  not  sure  that  I  catch  on,  Virginia.  Which 
happenin'  do  you  mean?  Your  father's  cold-blooded 


26o  HEPSEY  BURKE 

ejection  of  the  Maxwells  from  their  house,  or  Mr. 
Maxwell's  warm-blooded  sacrifice  to  save  your  fath 
er's  life?  Perhaps  it  is  a  bit  embarrassing,  as  you 
call  it,  to  thank  a  man  for  givin'  his  blood  to  save 
your  father." 

"It  is  a  more  personal  matter  than  that,"  replied 
Virginia,  gazing  dramatically  out  of  the  window. 
"You  don't  quite  seem  to  appreciate  the  delicacy  of 
the  situation,  Mrs.  Burke." 

"No,  I'm  blessed  if  I  do.  But  then  you  know  I'm 
very  stupid  about  some  things,  Virginia.  Fact  is, 
I'm  just  stupid  enough  to  imagine — no,  I  mean  think 
— that  it  would  be  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world 
to  go  straight  to  the  Maxwells  and  thank  'em  for  all 
they've  done  for  your  father  in  takin'  him  in  and 
givin'  him  the  kind  of  care  that  money  can't  buy. 
There's  special  reasons  that  I  needn't  mention  why 
you  should  say  thank  you,  and  say  it  right." 

Virginia  examined  the  toe  of  her  boot  for  some 
time  in  silence  and  then  began: 

"But  you  don't  understand  the  situation,  Mrs. 
Burke." 

"Virginia,  if  you  don't  stop  that  kind  of  thing,  I 
shall  certainly  t?nd  for  the  police.  Are  you  lookin' 
for  a  situation?  If  you  have  got  anything  to  say, 
say  it." 


UNINVITED  GUESTS  261 

"Well,  to  be  quite  frank  with  you,  Mrs.  Burke, 
I  must  confess  that  at  one  time  Mr.  Maxwell  and  I 
were  supposed  to  be  very  good  friends." 

"Naturally.  You  ought  to  be  good  friends  with 
your  rector.  I  don't  sec  anything  tragic  about 
that." 

"But  we  were  something  more  than  friends." 

"Who  told  you?  ,You  can't  believe  all  you  hear 
in  a  town  like  this.  Maybe  some  one  was  foolin' 
you." 

"I  ought  to  know  what  I  am  talking  about.  He 
accepted  our  hospitality  at  Willow  Bluff,  and  was  so 
attentive  that  people  began  to  make  remarks." 

"Well,  people  have  been  makin'  remarks  ever  since 
Eve  told  Adam  to  put  his  apron  on  for  dinner.  Any 
fool  can  make  remarks,  and  the  biggest  fool  is  the 
one  who  cares.  Are  you  sure  that  you  didn't  make 
any  remarks  yourself,  Virginia?" 

Virginia  instantly  bridled,  and  looked  the  picture 
of  injured  innocence. 

"Certainly  not !"  she  retorted.  "Do  you  think  that 
I  would  talk  about  such  a  delicate  matter  before 
others?" 

"Oh  no;  I  suppose  not.  But  you  could  look  wise 
and  foolish  at  the  same  time  when  Maxwell's  name 
was  mentioned,  with  a  coy  and  kittenish  air  which 


262  HEPSEY  BURKE 

would  suggest  more  than  ten  volumes  of  Mary  Jane 
Holmes." 

"You  are  not  very  sympathetic,  Mrs.  Burke,  when 
I  am  in  deep  trouble.  I  want  your  help,  not  ridicule 
,and  abuse." 

"Well,  I  am  sorry  for  you,  Virginia,  in  more  ways 
than  one.  But  really  I'd  like  to  know  what  reason 
you  have  to  think  that  Donald  Maxwell  was  ever  in 
love  with  you;  I  suppose  that's  what  you  mean." 

Virginia  blushed  deeply,  as  became  a  gentle  maiden 
of  her  tender  years,  and  replied: 

"Oh,  it  is  not  a  question  of  things  which  one  can 
easily  define.  Love  is  vocal  without  words,  you 
know." 

"Hm !  You  don't  mean  that  he  made  love  to  you 
and  proposed  to  you  through  a  phonograph?  You 
know  I  had  some  sort  of  idea  that  love  that  was  all 
wool,  and  a  yard  wide,  and  meant  business,  usually 
got  vocal  at  times." 

"But  Mr.  Maxwell  and  I  were  thrown  together  in 
such  an  intimate  way  in  parish  work,  you  know." 

"Which  did  the  throwing?" 

"You  don't  for  one  moment  suppose  that  I  would 
intrude  myself,  or  press  myself  on  his  attention,  do 
you?" 

"Oh  my  gracious,  no !    He  is  not  the  kind  of  a  man 


UNINVITED  GUESTS  263 

to  be  easily  Impressed.  He  may  have  seen  a  girl  or 
two  before  he  met  you;  of  course  I  mean  just  inci 
dentally,  as  it  were.  Now,  Virginia  Bascom,  allow 
me  to  ask  you  one  or  two  plain  questions.  Did  he 
ever  ask  you  to  marry  him?" 

"No,  not  in  so  many  words." 

"Did  he  ever  give  you  any  plain  Indication  tnat  he 
wanted  to  marry  you  ?  Did  he  ever  play  the  mandolin 
under  your  window  at  midnight?  Did  he  ever  steal 
one  of  your  gloves,  or  beg  for  a  rose  out  of  your 
bouquet,  or  turn  the  gas  out  when  he  called?" 

"No,  but  one  night  he  sat  on  the  sofa  with  me  and 
told  me  that  I  was  a  great  assistance  to  him  in  his 
parish  work,  and  that  he  felt  greatly  indebted  to 
me." 

"Hm !  That's  certainly  rather  pronounced,  isn't 
it  ?  Did  you  call  your  father,  or  rise  hastily  and  leave 
the  room,  or  what  did  you  do  ?" 

"Well,  of  course  it  was  not  a  proposal,  but  the 
way  he  did  it  was  very  suggestive,  and  calculated  to 
give  a  wrong  impression,  especially  as  he  had  his  arm 
on  the  back  of  the  sofa  behind  me." 

"Maybe  he  was  makin'  love  to  the  sofa.  Didn't 
you  know  that  Donald  Maxwell  was  engaged  to  be 
married  before  he  ever  set  foot  in  Durford?" 

"Good  gracious,  no  1  What  are  you  talking  about?" 


264  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"Well,  he  certainly  was,  for  keeps." 
"Then  he  had  no  business  to  pose  as  a  free  man, 
if  he  were  engaged.     It  is  dreadful  to  have  to  lose 

faith  in  one's  rector.     It  is  next  to  losing  faith  in — 
;n " 

111 

"The  milk-man.  Yes,  I  quite  agree  with  you.  But 
you  see  I  don't  recall  that  Donald  Maxwell  did  any 
posing.  He  simply  kept  quiet  about  his  own  affairs 
— though  I  do  think  that  it  would  have  been  better 
to  let  people  know  that  he  was  engaged,  from  the 
start.  However,  he  may  have  concluded  his  private 
affairs  were  his  own  business.  I  know  that's  very 
stupid;  but  some  people  will  persist  in  doin'  it,  in  spite 
of  all  you  can  say  to  'em.  Perhaps  it  never  occurred 
to  him  that  he  would  be  expected  to  marry  anyone 
living  in  a  little  sawed-off  settlement  like  this." 

"There's  no  use  in  abusing  your  native  village; 
and" — her  voice  quavered  on  the  verge  of  tears — 
"I  think  you  are  very  unsympathetic."  She  buried 
her  nose  in  her  handkerchief. 

Mrs.  Burke  gazed  sternly  at  Virginia  for  a  full 
minute  and  then  inquired: 

"Well,  do  you  want  to  know  why?  You  started 
with  just  foolishness,  but  you've  ended  up  with  mean 
ness,  Virginia  Bascom.  You've  taken  your  revenge 
on  people  who've  done  you  nothin'  but  kindness.  I 


UNINVITED  GUESTS  265 

know  pretty  well  who  it  was  that  suggested  to  your 
father  that  the  mortgage  on  the  rectory  should  be 
foreclosed,  and  the  Maxwells  turned  out  of  house  and 
home.  He's  always  been  close-fisted,  but  I've  never 
known  him  to  be  dead  ugly  and  vindictive  before. 

"Yes.  You  were  behind  all  this  wretched  busi 
ness — and  you're  sorry  for  it,  and  wish  you  could  un 
do  the  unkindness  you've  done.  Now  I  am  goin'  to 
talk  business — better  than  talkin'  sympathy,  because 
it'll  make  you  feel  better  when  you've  done  what  I 
tell  you.  You  go  and  call  on  Mrs.  Betty  immediately, 
and  tell  her  that  you  are  very  grateful  to  her  husband 
for  saving  your  father's  life,  and  that  money  couldn't 
possibly  pay  for  the  things  she  and  Mr.  Maxwell  did 
for  him,  and  that  you're  everlastingly  indebted  to  'em 
both." 

"But — but,"  wailed  the  repentant  Virginia,  "what 
can  I  say  about  the  tent?  Pa  wont  go  back  on  that 
— not  if  his  life  had  been  saved  twice  over." 

"Never  you  mind  about  that.  You  do  your  part 
of  the  business,  and  leave  the  rest  to  the  other  feller. 
You  can  bet  your  bottom  dollar  it  wont  be  the  Max 
wells  that'll  raise  the  question  of  who  turned  'em  out 
of  the  rectory." 

"I'll  go  right  away,  before  I  weaken.  Ob,"  she 
cried,  as  Hepsey  put  a  strengthening  arm  about  her, 


266  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"I've  been  wrong — I  know  I  have.  However  shall  I 
make  it  right  again?" 

When  Virginia  arrived  at  the  tent  and  pulled  the 
bell-cord,  Mrs.  Betty  pushed  apart  the  curtains  and 
greeted  her  visitor  with  the  utmost  cordiality. 

"Oh,  Miss  Bascom!  I  am  50  glad  to  see  you. 
Come  right  in.  Donald  is  out  just  now;  but  he  will 
return  presently,  and  I'm  sure  will  be  delighted  to 
see  an  old  friend.  This  way,  please.  Is  your  father 
improving  satisfactorily?" 

This  greeting  was  so  utterly  different  from  what 
she  had  expected,  that  for  the  moment  she  was  silent; 
but  when  they  were  seated  she  began : 

"Mrs.  Maxwell,  I  don't  know  how  to  express  my 
gratitude  to  you  for  all  you  have  done  for  my  father. 
I— I " 

"Then  I  wouldn't  try,  Miss  Bascom.  Don't  give 
the  matter  a  single  thought.  We  were  glad  to  do 
what  we  could  for  your  father,  and  we  made  him  as 
comfortable  as  we  could." 

Virginia's  heart  was  quite  atrophied,  and  so  with 
choking  voice  she  began  : 

"And  I'm  afraid  that  I  have  not  been  very  civil  to 
you — in  fact,  I  am  sure  that  I  owe  you  an  apol- 

ogy " 

"No,  never  mind.    It's  all  right  now.    Suppose  you 


UNINVITED  GUESTS  267 

take  off  your  things  and  stay  to  supper  with  us.  Then 
we  can  have  a  real  good  visit,  and  you  will  see  how 
well  we  dwellers  in  tents  can  live  I" 

Virginia  winced;  but  for  some  reason  which  she 
could  not  understand  she  found  it  quite  impossible 
to  decline  the  invitation. 

"I'm  sure  you  are  very  kind,  Mrs.  Maxwell;  but 
I'm  afraid  I  shall  inconvenience  you." 

"Oh  no,  not  a  bit.  Now  will  you  be  a  real  good 
Samaritan  and  help  me  a  little,  as  I  have  no  maid? 
You  might  set  the  table  if  you  don't  mind,  and  when 
Donald  comes  we  shall  be  ready  for  him.  This  is 
really  quite  jolly,"  she  added,  bustling  about,  showing 
Virginia  where  to  find  things. 

"I  am  afraid,"  Virginia  began  with  something  like 
a  sob  in  her  voice,  "that  you  are  heaping  coals  of  fire 
on  my  head." 

"Oh  no;  not  when  coal  is  over  seven  dollars  a  ton. 
We  couldn't  afford  such  extravagant  hospitality  as 
that.  You  might  arrange  those  carnations  in  the  vase 
iF  you  will,  while  I  attend  to  the  cooking.  You  will 
find  the  china,  and  the  silver,  in  that  chest.  I  wont 
apologize  for  the  primitive  character  of  our  entertain 
ment  because  you  see  when  we  came  down  here  we 
stored  most  of  our  things  in  Mrs.  Burke's  barn.  It 
is  awfully  nice  to  have  somebody  with  me;  I  am  so 


268  HEPSEY  BURKE 

much  alone;  you  came  just  in  time  to  save  me  from 
the  blues." 

When  Mrs.  Betty  disappeared  in  the  "kitchen,"  and 
Virginia  began  the  task  assigned  her,  a  very  queer 
and  not  altogether  pleasant  sensation  filled  her  heart. 
Was  it  remorse,  or  penitence,  or  self-reproach,  or 
indigestion?  She  could  not  be  absolutely  sure  about 
it,  but  concluded  that  perhaps  it  was  a  combination 
of  all  four.  When  Donald  returned,  and  discovered 
Virginia  trying  to  decide  whether  they  would  need 
two  spoons  or  three  at  each  plate,  for  an  instant  he 
was  too  astonished  to  speak;  but  quickly  regaining  his 
easy  manner,  he  welcomed  her  no  less  cordially  than 
Mrs.  Betty  had  done,  remarking: 

"Well,  this  is  a  treat;  and  so  you  are  going  to  have 
supper  with  us?  That  will  be  a  great  pleasure." 

Virginia  almost  collapsed  in  momentary  embarrass 
ment,  and  could  think  of  nothing  better  than  to  ask: 

"I  am  not  sure  what  Mrs.  Maxwell  is  going  to 
have  for  supper,  and  I  really  don't  know  whether  to 
place  two  spoons  or  three.  What  would  you  advise, 
Mr.  Maxwell?" 

Maxwell  scowled  seriously,  rubbed  his  chin  and  re 
plied  : 

"Well,  you  know,  I  really  can't  say;  but  perhaps 
it  would  be  on  the  safe  side  to  have  three  spoons  in 


UNINVITED  GUESTS  269 

case  any  emergency  might  arise,  like  a  custard,  or 
jelly  and  whipped  cream,  or  something  else  which 
Betty  likes  to  make  as  a  surprise.  Yes,  on  the  whole, 
I  think  that  three  would  be  better  than  two." 

When  Virginia  had  placed  the  spoons,  and  Max 
well  had  returned  to  assist  her,  she  hesitated  a  mo 
ment  and  looked  at  him  with  tears  in  her  eyes  and 
began : 

"Mr.  Maxwell,  there  is  something  I  must  say  to 
you,  an  acknowledgment  and  an  apology  I  must  make. 
I  have  been  so  horribly " 

"Now  see  here,  Miss  Virginia,"  the  rector  replied, 
"you  just  forget  it.  We  are  awfully  glad  to  have  you 
here,  and  we  are  going  to  have  a  right  jolly  supper 
together.  Betty's  muffins  are  simply  fine,  and  her 
creamed  chicken  is  a  dream.  Besides,  I  want  to  con 
sult  you  concerning  the  new  wardrobe  I  am  going  to 
have  built  in  the  vestry.  You  see  there  is  the  ques 
tion  of  the  drawers,  and  the  shelves,  and " 

"Never  mind  the  drawers  and  the  shelves,"  Mrs. 
Betty  remarked  as  she  entered  with  the  creamed 
chicken  and  the  muffins.  "You  just  sit  down  before 
these  things  get  cold,  and  you  can  talk  business  after 
wards." 

To  her  utter  astonishment  Virginia  soon  found  her 
self  eating  heartily,  utterly  at  her  ease  in  the  cordial, 


2yo  HEPSEY  BURKE 

friendly  atmosphere  of  tent-life,  and  when  Maxwell 
took  her  home  later  in  the  evening,  she  hadn't  apolo 
gized  or  wallowed  in  an  agony  of  self-reproach.  She 
had  only  demanded  the  recipe  for  the  muffins,  and 
had  declared  that  she  was  coming  again  very  soon  iff 
Mrs.  Betty  would  only  let  her. 

And  last  but  not  least — the  rector's  polite  atten 
tion  in  acting  as  her  escort  home  failed  to  work  upon 
her  dramatic  temperament  with  any  more  startling 
effect  than  to  produce  a  feeling  that  he  was  a  very 
good  friend. 

In  fact,  she  wondered,  as  she  conned  over  the 
events  of  the  evening,  whether  she  had  realized  be 
fore,  all  that  the  word  Friendship  signified. 


CMAFTJEIXHl 


"I 


i — flTiiniiTniffiiiinniraii  HIT  IBHIM  immagp j  i  c  ~i 
DON'T  rightly  know  what's  got  into  Virginia 

Bascom,"  remarked  Jonathan,  as  he  sat  on 
Hepsey's  side  porch  one  evening,  making  po 
lite  conversation  as  his  new  habit  was.    "She's  buzzin' 
round  Mrs.  Betty  like  a  bee  round  a  flower — thicker'n 
thieves  they  be,  by  gum." 

"Yes,"  cogitated  Hepsey,  half  to  herself,  and  half 
in  response,  "the  lamb's  lyin'  down  all  right,  and  it's 
about  time  we'd  got  the  lion  curled  up  by  her  and 
purrin'  like  a  cat.  But  I  don't  see  the  signs  of  it,  and 

271 


272  HEPSEY  BURKE 

I'll  have  to  take  rny  knittin'  to-morrow  and  sit  right 
clown  in  his  den  and  visit  with  him  a  little.  If  he 
v/ont  purr,  I've  got  what'll  make  him  roar,  good  and 
proper,  or  I've  missed  my  guess." 

"Now  Hepsey,  you  go  easy  with  my  church-part 
ner,  the  Senior  Warden.  When  his  wife  lived,  he 
was  a  decent  sort  of  a  feller,  was  Sylvester  Bascom; 
and  I  reckon  she  got  him  comin'  her  way  more  with 
molasses  than  with  vinegar." 

And  though  Hepsey  snorted  contempt  for  the  ad 
vice  of  a  mere  male,  she  found  the  thought  top-side 
of  her  mind  as  she  started  out  next  morning  to  pay 
Bascom  a  momentous  call.  After  all,  Jonathan  had 
but  echoed  her  own  consistent  philosophy  of  life.  But 
with  her  usual  shrewdness  she  decided  to  go  armed 
with  both  kinds  of  ammunition. 

Mrs.  Burke  puffed  somewhat  loudly  as  she  paused 
on  the  landing  which  led  to  the  door  of  Bascom's 
office.  After  wiping  her  forehead  with  her  handker 
chief  she  gave  three  loud  knocks  on  the  painted  glass 
of  the  door,  which  shook  some  of  the  loose  putty  onto 
the  floor.  After  knocking  the  third  time  some  one 
called  out  "Come  in,"  and  she  opened  the  door,  en 
tered,  and  gazed  calmly  across  the  room.  Bas 
com  was  seated  at  his  desk  talking  to  a  farm 
er,  and  when  he  turned  around  and  discovered 


HEPSEY'S  DIPLOMACY  273 

who    his    visitor    was,    he    ejaculated    irreverently: 

"Good  Lord  deliver  us!" 

"Oh,  do  excuse  me!"  Mrs.  Burke  replied.  "I  didn't 
know  that  you  were  sayin'  the  Litany.  I'll  just  slip 
into  the  next  room  and  wait  till  you  get  through." 

Whereupon  she  stepped  into  the  next  room,  closed 
the  door,  and  made  herself  comfortable  in  a  large 
arm-chair.  There  was  a  long  table  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  and  the  walls  were  covered  with  shelves 
and  yellow  books  of  a  most  monotonous  binding.  The 
air  was  musty  and  close.  She  quietly  opened  one  of 
the  windows,  and  having  resumed  her  seat,  she  pulled 
a  wash-rag  from  her  leather  bag  and  began  knitting 
calmly. 

She  waited  for  some  time,  occasionally  glancing  at 
the  long  table,  which  was  covered  with  what  appeared 
to  be  a  hopeless  confusion  of  letters,  legal  documents, 
and  books  opened  and  turned  face  downward.  Occa 
sionally  she  sniffed  in  disgust  at  the  general  untidi 
ness  of  the  place.  Evidently  the  appearance  of  the 
table  in  front  of  her  was  getting  on  her  nerves;  and 
so  she  put  her  knitting  away  as  she  muttered  to  her 
self: 

"I  wonder  Virginia  don't  come  up  here  once  in  a 
while  and  put  things  to  rights.  It's  simply  awful!" 
Then  she  began  sorting  the  papers  and  gathering 


274  HEPSEY  BURKE 

them  into  little  uniform  piles  by  themselves.  She 
seemed  to  have  no  notion  whatever  of  their  possible 
relation  to  each  other,  but  arranged  them  according 
to  their  size  and  color  in  nice  little  separate  piles. 
When  there  was  nothing  else  left  for  her  to  do  she 
resumed  her  knitting  and  waited  patiently  for  the  de 
parture  of  the  farmer.  The  two  men  seemed  to  be 
having  a  rather  warm  dispute  over  the  interpretation 
of  some  legal  contract;  and  if  Bascom  was  hot-tem 
pered  and  emphatic  in  his  language,  bordering  on  the 
profane,  the  client  was  stubborn  and  dull-witted  and 
hard  to  convince.  Occasionally  she  overheard  bits  of 
the  controversy  which  were  not  intended  for  her  ears. 
Bascom  insisted: 

"But  you're  not  such  a  dum  fool  as  to  think  that  a 
contract  legally  made  between  two  parties  is  not  bind 
ing,  are  you?  You  admit  that  I  have  fulfilled  my 
part,  and  now  you  must  pay  for  the  services  rendered 
or  else  I  shall  bring  suit  against  you." 

The  reply  to  this  was  not  audible,  but  the  farmer 
did  not  seem  to  be  quite  convinced. 

After  what  seemed  to  her  an  interminable  interval 
the  door  banged,  and  she  knew  that  Bascom  was 
alone.  She  did  not  wait  for  any  invitation,  but  rising 
quietly  she  went  into  the  inner  office  and  took  the 
chair  vacated  by  the  farmer.  Bascom  made  a  pre 


HEPSEY'S  DIPLOMACY  275 

tense  of  writing,  in  silence,  with  his  back  towards  her, 
during  which  interval  Hepsey  waited  patiently.  Then, 
looking  up  with  the  expression  of  a  deaf-mute,  he 
asked  colorlessly : 

"Well,  Mrs.  Burke,  what  may  I  do  for  you?" 

"You  can  do  nothing  for  me — but  you  can  and 
must  do  something  for  the  Maxwells,"  she  replied 
firmly  but  quietly. 

"Don't  you  think  it  would  be  better  to  let  Max 
well  take  care  of  his  own  affairs?" 

"Yes,  most  certainly,  if  he  were  in  a  position  to  do 
so.  But  you  know  that  the  clergy  are  a  long-suffer- 
in'  lot,  more's  the  pity;  they'll  endure  almost  anythin' 
rather  than  complain.  That's  why  you  and  others 
take  advantage  of  them." 

"Ah,  but  an  earnest  minister  of  the  Gospel  does 
not  look  for  the  loaves  and  fishes  of  his  calling." 

"I  shouldn't  think  he  would.  I  hate  fish,  myself; 
but  Maxwell  has  a  perfect  right  to  look  for  the  hon 
est  fulfillment  of  a  contract  made  between  you  and 
him.  Didn't  I  hear  you  tell  that  farmer  that  he  was 
a  dum  fool  if  he  thought  that  a  contract  made  be 
tween  two  parties  is  not  legally  binding,  and  that  if 
you  fulfilled  your  part  he  must  pay  for  your  services 
or  you  would  sue  him?  Do  you  suppose  that  a  con 
tract  with  a  carpenter  or  a  plumber  or  a  mason  is 


276  HEPSEY  BURKE 

binding,  while  a  contract  with  a  clergyman  is  not? 
What  is  the  matter  with  you,  anyway?" 

Bascom  made  no  reply,  but  turned  his  back  towards 
Hepsey  and  started  to  write.  She  resumed: 

"Donald  Maxwell's  salary  is  goin'  to  be  paid  him 
in  full  within  the  next  two  weeks  or — 

Mrs.  Burke  came  to  a  sudden  silence,  and  after  a 
moment  or  two  Bascom  turned  around  and  inquired 
sarcastically  : 

"Or  what?" 

Hepsey  continued  to  knit  in  silence  for  a  while, 
her  face  working  in  her  effort  to  gain  control  of  her 
self  and  speak  calmly. 

"Now  see  here,  Sylvester  Bascom :  I  didn't  come 
here  to  have  a  scene  with  you,  and  if  I  knit  like  I 
was  fussed,  you  must  excuse  me." 

Her  needles  had  been  flashing  lightning,  and  truth 
to  tell,  Bascom,  for  all  he  dreaded  Hepsey's  sharp 
tongue  as  nothing  else  in  Durford,  had  been  unable 
to  keep  his  eyes  off  those  angry  bits  of  sparkling  steel. 
Suddenly  they  stopped — dead.  The  knitting  fell  into 
Hepsey's  lap,  and  she  sat  forward — a  pair  of  kindly, 
moist  eyes  searching  the  depths  of  Bascom's,  as  he 
looked  up  at  her.  Her  voice  dropped  to  a  lower  tone 
as  she  continued: 

"There's  been  just  one  person,  and  one  person  only, 


HEPSEY'S  DIPLOMACY  277 

that's  ever  been  able  to  keep  the  best  of  you  on  top 
— and  she  was  my  best  friend,  your  wife.  She  kept 
you  human,  and  turned  even  the  worst  side  of  you  to 
some  account.  If  you  did  scrape  and  grub,  'most 
night  and  day,  to  make  your  pile,  and  was  hard  on 
those  that  crossed  your  path  while  doin'  of  it,  it  was 
she  that  showed  you  there  was  pleasure  in  usin'  it 
for  others  as  well  as  for  yourself,  and  while  she  lived 
you  did  it.  But  since  she's  been  gone," — the  old 
man  tried  to  keep  his  face  firm  and  his  glance  steady, 
but  in  vain — he  winced, — "since  she's  been  gone,  the 
human  in  you's  dried  up  like  a  sun-baked  apple.  And 
it's  you,  Sylvester  Bascom,  that's  been  made  the  most 
miserable,  'spite  of  all  the  little  carks  you've  put  on 
many  another." 

His  face  hardened  again,  and  Hepsey  paused. 

"What  has  all  this  to  do  with  Mr.  Maxwell,  may 
I  ask?" 

"I'm  comin'  to  that,"  continued  Hepsey,  patiently. 
"If  Mary  Bascom  were  alive  to-day,  would  the  rector 
of  Durford  be  livin'  in  a  tent  instead  of  in  the  rectory 
—the  house  she  thought  she  had  given  over,  without 
mortgage  or  anything  else,  to  the  church?  And 
would  you  be  holdin'  back  your  subscription  to  the 
church,  and  seein'  that  others  held  back  too  ?  I  never 
thought  you'd  have  done,  when  she  was  dead,  what'd 


278  HEPSEY  BURKE 

have  broken  her  heart  if  she'd  been  livin'.  The 
church  was  her  one  great  interest  in  life,  after  her 
husband  and  her  daughter;  and  it  was  her  good  work 
that  brought  the  parish  to  make  you  Senior  Warden, 
After  you'd  made  money  and  moved  to  your  new 
house,  just  before  she  died,  she  gave  the  old  house, 
that  was  hers  from  her  father,  to  the  church,  and  you 
were  to  make  the  legal  transfer  of  it.  Then  she  died 
suddenly,  and  you  delayed  and  delayed — claiming  the 
house  as  yours,  and  at  last  sold  it  to  us  subject  to  the 
mortgage." 

The  old  man  stirred  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"This  is  all  quite  beside  the  mark.  What  might 
have  been  proper  to  do  in  my  wife's  life-time  became 
a  different  matter  altogether  after  her  death.  I  had 
my  daughter's  welfare  to  think  of;  besides — 

"I'm  not  talkin'  about  your  legal  right.  But  you 
know  that  if  you'd  wanted  to  have  it,  you  could  have 
got  your  interest  on  the  mortgage  quick  enough.  If 
you  hadn't  held  back  on  his  salary,  others  wouldn't 
have;  or  if  they  had,  you  could  have  got  after  'em. 
What's  the  use  of  tryin'  to  mix  each  other  up?  You 
couldn't  keep  Maxwell  in  your  pocket,  and  because 
He  didn't  come  to  you  every  day  for  orders  you  reck 
oned  to  turn  him  out  of  the  parish.  You've  not  one 
thing  against  him,  and  you  know  it,  Sylvester  Bascom. 


HEPSEY'S  DIPLOMACY  279 

He's  shown  you  every  kind  of  respect  as  his  Senior 
Warden,  and  more  patience  than  you  deserved.  He 
let  himself  be — no,  had  himself — bled,  to  save  your 
life.  But  instead  of  making  him  the  best  young  friend 
you  could  have  had,  and  makin'  yourself  of  real  use 
to  your  town  and  your  neighbors  through  him  and  his 
work,  you've  let  the  devil  get  into  you;  and  when 
your  accident  come,  you'd  got  to  where  you  were  run- 
nin'  that  fast  down  a  steep  place  into  the  sea  that  I 
could  'most  hear  the  splash." 

She  cocked  her  head  on  one  side,  and  smiled  at  him 
whimsically,  hoping  for  some  response  to  her  humor 
ous  picture.  A  faint  ghost  of  a  smile — was  it,  or  was 
it  not? — flickered  on  the  old  man's  lips;  but  he  gave 
no  sign  of  grace. 

Hepsey  sighed,  and  paused  for  an  instant.  "Well 
— we  can't  sit  here  talkin'  till  midnight,  or  I  shall  be 
compromisin'  your  reputation,  I  suppose.  There'll 
be  a  meeting  of  the  parishioners  called  at  the  end  of 
this  week,  and  the  rector  wont  be  present  at  it;  so, 
Warden,  I  suppose  you'll  preside.  I  hope  you  will. 
I've  got  to  do  my  part — and  that  is  to  see  that  the  par 
ish  understands  just  how  their  rector's  placed,  right 
now,  both  about  his  house  and  his  salary.  He's  work- 
in'  as  a  laborer  to  get  enough  for  him  and  that  little 
wife  of  his  to  live  on,  and  the  town  knows  it — but 


28o  HEPSEY  BURKE 

they  don't  all  know  that  it's  because  the  salary  that's 
properly  his  is  bein'  held  back  on  him,  and  by  those 
that  pay  their  chauffeurs  more  than  the  rector  gets, 
by  a  good  piece.  I  shall  call  on  every  one  at  that 
meetin'  to  pay  up ;  and  I  shall  begin  with  the  poorest, 
and  end  up" — she  fixed  Bascom's  eye,  significantly — • 
"with  the  richest.  And  if  it  seems  to  be  my  duty  to 
do  it,  I  may  have  somethin'  more  to  say  when  the  sub 
scription's  closed — but  I  don't  believe — no,"  she  add 
ed,  opening  her  bag  and  rummaging  about  among  its 
contents  till  she  hit  upon  a  letter  and  brought  it  forth, 
"no,  I  don't  believe  I'll  have  to  say  a  thing.  I've 
got  a  hunch,  Sylvester  Bascom,  that  it'll  be  you  that'll 
have  the  last  word,  after  all." 

The  old  man's  glance  was  riveted  upon  the  familiar 
handwriting  of  the  faded  letter,  and  without  a  word 
Hepsey  started  to  read  it,  date  and  all,  in  a  clear 
voice : 

WILLOW  BLUFF,  DURFORD. 

September  — ,  19 — . 
HEPSEY  DEAR: 

I  suppose  you  will  never  forgive  me  for  making  the 
move  from  the  old  house  to  Willow  Bluff,  as  it's  to 
be  called,  while  you  were  not  home  to  help  me.  But 
they  got  finished  sooner  than  we  thought  for,  and 


HEPSEY'S  DIPLOMACY  281 

Sylvester  was  as  eager  as  a  child  with  a  new  toy  to 
get  moved  in.  So  here  we  are,  and  the  first  letter  I 
write  from  our  new  home  is  to  you,  who  helped  more 
than  anyone  to  make  the  old  home  happy  for  me  and 
mine — bless  them  and  bless  you  ! 

Everything  is  out  of  the  old  house — "The  Rectory" 
as  I  shall  call  it,  now — except  such  pieces  of  furniture 
as  we  did  not  want  to  take  away,  and  we  thought 
might  be  welcome  to  the  parson  (or  parsons,  I  sup 
pose)  who  may  occupy  it.  Sister  Susan  thought  it 
slighting  to  Pa's  generosity  to  give  the  house  to  the 
church ;  but  I  don't  look  at  it  like  that.  Anyway,  it's 
done  now — and  I'm  very  happy  to  think  that  the  flock 
can  offer  a  proper  home  to  its  shepherd,  as  long  as 
the  old  place  stands. 

If  you  get  back  Thursday  I  shall  just  be  ready  for 
you  to  help  me  with  the  shades  and  curtains,  if  you 
care  to.  Your  friend, 

MARION  ANDERSON  BASCOM. 

P.  S.  Ginty  sends  her  love  to  Aunt  Hepsey,  and 
says,  "to  come  to  Boston  quick!"  She's  a  little  con 
fused,  someway,  and  can't  get  it  out  of  her  head  that 
we're  not  back  home  in  Boston,  since  we  left  the  old 
place.  I  hope  you  are  having  a  nice  visit  with  Sally. 

As  Hepsey  read,  Sylvester  Bascom  turned,  slowly, 


282  HEPSEY  BURKE 

away  from  her,  his  head  on  his  hand,  gazing  out  of 
the  window.  When  she  had  finished  reading,  the  let 
ter  was  folded  up  and  replaced  in  the  bag  along  with 
her  knitting.  Then,  laying  her  hand  with  a  gentle, 
firm  pressure  on  the  old  man's  shoulder,  Mrs.  Burke 
departed. 


CALK 
A  MEETING 


FOR  the  next  few  days  Hepsey's  mind  worked 
in  unfamiliar  channels,   for  her  nature  was 
that  of  a  benevolent  autocrat,   and  she  had 
found  herself  led  by  circumstances  into  a  situation  de 
manding  the  prowess  and  elasticity  of  the  diplomat. 
To  begin  with,  she  must  risk  a  gamble  at  the  meet 
ing:  if  the  spiritual  yeast  did  not  rise  in  old  Bascom, 
as  she  hoped  it  would,  and  crown  her  strategy  with 
success,  she  would  have  to  fall  back  on  belligerent 
tactics,  and  see  if  it  were  not  possible  to  get  his  duty 

283 


284  HEPSEY  BURKE 

out  of  him  by  threatened  force  of  public  opinion :  and 
she  knew  that,  with  his  obstinacy,  it  would  be  touch 
and  go  on  which  side  of  the  fence  he  would  fall  in 
a  situation  of  that  kind — dependent,  in  fact,  upon  the 
half  turn  of  a  screw,  more  or  less,  for  the  result. 
Furthermore,  she  concluded  that  beyond  the  vaguest 
hint  of  her  call  on  Bascom  and  the  object  of  the 
meeting,  she  could  not  show  her  hand  to  Maxwell; 
for  he  would  feel  it  his  duty  to  step  in  and  prevent 
the  possibility  of  any  such  open  breach  as  failure  on 
Hepsey's  part  would  probably  make  in  the  parish 
solidarity.  For  once  she  must  keep  her  own  counsel 
— except  for  Jonathan,  whose  present  infatuated  con 
dition  made  him  an  even  safer  and  more  satisfactory 
source  of  "advice"  than  he  normally  was.  But  the 
evening  before  the  meeting,  as  he  sat  on  Hepsey's 
porch,  he  began  to  experience  qualms,  perhaps  in  his 
capacity  as  Junior  Warden.  But  Hepsey  turned  upon 
him  relentlessly: 

"Now  see  here!  You  know  I  don't  start  some- 
thin'  unless  I  can  see  it  through;  and  if  it  means  a 
scrap,  so  much  the  better.  Next  to  a  good  revival, 
a  good  hard  scrap  in  a  stupid  parish  has  a  real  spir 
itual  value.  It  stimulates  the  circulation,  increases 
the  appetite,  gives  people  somethin'  to  think  about, 
and  does  a  lot  of  good  where  peaceful  ways  would 


HEPSEY  CALLS  A  MEETING        285, 

fail.  The  trouble  with  us  is  that  we've  always  been 
a  sight  too  peaceful.  If  I've  got  to  do  it,  I'm  goin' 
to  make  a  row,  a  real  jolly  row  that'll  make  some 
people  wish  they'd  never  been  born.  No-no-no  !  Don't 
you  try  to  interfere.  We've  come  to  a  crisis,  and  I'm 
goin'  to  meet  it.  Don't  you  worry  until  I  begin  to 
holler  for  first  aid  to  the  injured.  A  woman  can't 
vote  for  a  vestryman,  though  women  form  the  bulk 
of  the  congregation,  and  do  most  all  of  the  parish 
work;  and  the  whole  church'd  go  to  smithereens  if  it 
weren't  for  the  women.  But  there's  one  thing  a  wo 
man  can  always  do:  She  can  talk.  They  say  that  talk 
is  cheap;  but  sometimes  it's  a  mighty  expensive  arti 
cle,  if  it's  the  right  kind ;  and  maybe  the  men  will  have 
to  settle  the  bills.  I'm  going  to  talk;  perhaps  you 
think  that's  nothing  new.  But  you  don't  know  how  I 
can  talk  when  once  I  get  my  dander  up.  Somebody's 
goin'  to  sit  up  and  pay  attention  this  time.  Bascom'll 
conclude  to  preside  at  the  meetin' ;  whichever  way  he 
means  to  act;  and  I've  fixed  it  so  Maxwell  will  be 
engaged  on  other  duties.  No;  go 'way.  I  don't  want 
to  see  you  around  here  again  until  the  whole  thing's 


over." 


"All  right  Hepsey,  all  right.  I  guess  if  it  goes 
through  the  way  you  want  you'll  be  that  set  up  you'll 
be  wantin'  to  marry  old  Bascom  'stead  of  me," 


286  HEPSEY  BURKE 

chuckled  Jonathan,  as  the  lady  of  his  choice  turned 
to  enter  the  house. 

She  faced  round  upon  him  as  she  reached  the  door, 
her  features  set  with  grim  determination : 

"If  I  get  the  whole  caboodle,  bag  and  baggage, 
from  the  meetin'  and  from  Bascom,  there's  no  know- 
in'  but  what  I'll  send  for  the  parson  and  be  married 
right  there  and  then.  There  isn't  a  thing  I  could 
think  of,  in  the  line  of  a  real  expensive  sacrifice,  that'd 
measure  up  as  compensation  for  winnin'  out — not 
even  marryin'  you,  Jonathan  Jackson." 

So  Hepsey  laid  down  lines  for  control  of  the  meet 
ing,  ready  with  a  different  variety  of  expedients,  from 
point  to  point  in  its  progress,  as  Sylvester  Bascom's 
attitude  at  the  time  might  necessitate.  For  she  felt 
very  little  anxiety  as  to  her  ability  to  carry  the  main 
body  of  the  audience  along  with  her. 

The  night  of  the  meeting  the  Sunday  School  Room, 
adjacent  to  the  church,  was  filled  full  to  a  seat  at  least 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  time  announced  for 
the  meeting.  Hepsey  had  provided  herself  with  a 
chair  in  the  center  of  the  front  row,  directly  facing 
the  low  platform  to  be  occupied  by  the  chairman. 
Her  leather  bag  hung  formidably  on  one  arm,  and 
a  long  narrow  blank  book  was  laid  on  her  lap.  She 
took  little  notice  of  her  surroundings,  and  her  anxiety 


HEPSEY  CALLS  A  MEETING        287 

was  imperceptible,  as  she  thrummed  with  a  pencil 
upon  the  book,  glancing  now  and  then  at  the  side 
door,  watching  for  Bascom's  entrance.  The  meeting 
buzzed  light  conversation,  as  a  preliminary.  Had 
she  miscalculated  on  the  very  first  move?  Was  he 
going  to  treat  the  whole  affair  with  lofty  disdain? 
As  the  hour  struck,  dead  silence  reigned  in  the  room, 
expectant;  and  Jonathan,  who  sat  next  her,  fidgeted 
nervously. 

"Five  minutes'  grace,  and  that's  all;  if  he's  not 
here  by  then,  it'll  be  up  to  you  to  call  the  meetin'  to 
order,"  whispered  Hepsey. 

"SakesI"  hissed  the  terrified  Junior  Warden,  "you 
didn't  say  nothin'  about  that,  Hepsey,"  he  protested. 

She  leveled  a  withering  glance  at  him,  and  was 
about  to  reduce  him  to  utter  impotence  by  some  scath 
ing  remark,  when  both  were  startled  by  a  voice  in 
front  of  them,  issuing  from  "the  chair."  Silently  the 
Senior  Warden  had  entered,  and  had  proceeded  to 
open  the  meeting.  His  face  was  set  and  stern,  and 
his  voice  hard  and  toneless.  No  help  from  that  quar 
ter,  Hepsey  mentally  recorded. 

"As  the  rector  of  this  parish  is  not  able  to  be  pres 
ent  I  have  been  asked  to  preside  at  this  meeting.  I 
believe  that  it  was  instigated — that  is  suggested,  by 
of  the  ladies  who  believe  that  there  are  some 


288  HEPSEY  BURKE 

matters  of  importance  which  need  immediate  atten 
tion,  and  must  be  presented  to  the  congregation  with 
out  delay.  I  must  beg  to  remind  these  ladies  that  the 
Wardens  and  Vestrymen  are  the  business  officers  of 
the  church;  and  it  seems  to  my  poor  judgment  that 
if  any  business  is  to  be  transacted,  the  proper  way 
would  be  for  the  Vestry  to  take  care  of  it.  However, 
I  have  complied  with  the  request  and  have  under 
taken  to  preside,  in  the  absence  of  the  rector.  The 
meeting  is  now  open  for  business." 

Bascom  sat  down  and  gazed  at  the  audience,  but 
with  a  stare  so  expressionless  as  gave  no  further  in 
dex  to  his  mood.  For  some  time  there  was  a  rather 
painful  silence;  but  at  last  Hepsey  Burke  arose  and 
faced  about  to  command  the  audience. 

"Brethren  and  sisters,"  she  began,  "a  few  of  us 
women  have  made  up  our  minds  that  it's  high  time 
that  somethin'  was  done  towards  payin'  our  rector 
what  we  owe  him,  and  that  we  furnish  him  with  a 
proper  house  to  live  in." 

At  this  point,  a  faint  murmur  of  applause  inter 
rupted  the  speaker,  who  replied:  "There.  There. 
Don't  be  too  quick.  You  wont  feel  a  bit  like  ap- 
plaudin'  when  I  get  through.  It's  a  burnin'  shame 
and  disgrace  that  we  owe  Mr.  Maxwell  about  two 
hundred  dollars,  which  means  a  mighty  lot  to  him, 


HEPSEY  CALLS  A  MEETING        289 

because  if  he  was  paid  in  full  every  month  he  would 
get  just  about  enough  to  keep  his  wife  and  himself 
from  starvin'  to  death.  I  wasn't  asked  to  call  this 
meetin' ;  I  asked  the  rector  to,  and  I  asked  the  Senior 
Warden  to  preside.  And  I  told  the  rector  that  some 
of  us — both  men  and  women — had  business  to  talk 
about  that  wasn't  for  his  ears.  For  all  he  knows, 
we're  here  to  pass  a  vote  of  censure  on  him.  The  fact 
is  that  we  have  reached  the  point  where  somethin' 
has  got  to  be  done  right  oft  quick;  and  if  none  of  the 
Vestrymen  do  it,  then  a  poor  shrinkin'  little  woman 
like  myself  has  got  to  rise  and  mount  the  band  wagon. 
I'm  no  woman's  rights  woman,  but  I  have  a  con 
science  that'll  keep  me  awake  nights  until  I  have  freed 
my  mind." 

Here  Hepsey  paused,  and  twirling  her  pencil  be 
tween  her  lips,  gazed  around  at  her  auditors  who 
were  listening  with  breathless  attention.  Then  she 
suddenly  exclaimed  with  suppressed  wrath,  and  in 
her  penetrating  tones : 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you  men,  anyway?  You'd 
have  to  pay  your  butcher,  or  your  baker,  or  your 
grocer,  whether  you  wanted  to  or  not.  Then  why  in 
the  name  of  conscience  don't  you  pay  your  parson? 
Certainly  religion  that  don't  cost  nothin'  is  worse 
than  nothin'.  I'll  tell  you  the  reason  why  you  don't 


29o  HEPSEY  BURKE 

support  your  parson:  It's  just  because  your  rector's 
a  gentleman,  and  can't  very  well  kick  over  the  traces, 
or  balk,  or  sue  you,  even  if  you  do  starve  him.  So 
you,  prosperous,  big-headed  men  think  that  you  can 
sneak  out  of  it.  Oh,  you  needn't  shuffle  and  look 
mad;  you're  goin'  to  get  the  truth  for  once,  and  I  had 
Johnny  Mullins  lock  the  front  door  before  I  began." 

The  whole  audience  responded  to  this  sally  with  a 
laugh,  but  the  speaker  relented  not  one  iota.  "Then 
when  you've  smit  your  rector  on  one  cheek  you  quote 
the  Bible  to  make  him  think  he  ought  to  turn  his 
overcoat  also."  Another  roar.  "There:  you  don't 
need  to  think  I'm  havin'  a  game.  I'm  not  through 
yet.  Now  let's  get  right  down  to  business.  We  owe 
our  rector  a  lot  of  money,  and  he  is  livin'  in  a  tent 
because  we  neglected  to  pay  the  interest  on  the  rectory 
mortgage  held  by  the  Senior  Warden  of  our  church. 
Talkin'  plain  business,  and  nothin'  else,  turned  him 
out  of  house  and  home,  and  we  broke  our  business 
contract  with  him.  Yes  we  did !  And  now  you  know 
it. 

"Some  of  us  have  been  sayin' — and  I  was  one  of 
'em  till  Mr.  Maxwell  corrected  me — that  it  was  mean 
of  Mr.  Bascom  to  turn  the  rector  and  his  wife  out 
of  their  house.  But  business  is  business,  and  until 
we've  paid  the  last  cent  of  our  contributions,  v;s 


HEPSEY  CALLS  A  MEETING        291 

haven't  any  right  to  throw  stones  at  anyone.  Wait 
till  we've  done  our  part,  for  that !  We've  been  the 
laughing  stock  of  the  whole  town  because  of  our 
pesky  meanness.  That  tent  of  ours  has  stuck  out  on 
the  landscape  like  a  horse  fly  on  a  pillow  sham. 

"It's  not  my  business  to  tell  how  the  rector  and  his 
wife  have  had  to  economize  and  suffer,  to  get  along 
at  all;  or  how  nice  and  uncomplainin'  they've  been 
through  it  all.  They  wouldn't  want  me  to  say  any- 
thin'  of  that;  sportsmen  they  are,  both  of  'ern.  The 
price  of  food's  gone  up,  and  the  rector's  salary  gone 
down  like  a  teeter  on  a  log. 

"Now,  as  I  remarked  before,  let's  get  right  down 
to  business.  The  only  way  to  raise  that  money  is  to 
raise  it!  There's  no  use  larkin'  all  'round  Robin 
Hood's  barn,  or  scampering  round  the  mulberry  bush 
any  longer.  I  don't  care  for  fairs  myself,  where  you 
have  to  go  and  buy  somethin'  you  don't  want,  for 
five  times  what  it's  worth,  and  call  it  givin'  to  the 
Lord.  And  I  don't  care  to  give  a  chicken,  and  then 
have  to  pay  for  eatin'  the  same  old  bird  afterwards. 
I  wont  eat  soda  biscuit  unless  I  know  who  made  'ern. 
Church  fairs  are  an  invention  of  the  devil  to  make 
people  think  they're  religious,  when  they  are  only 
mighty  restless  and  selfish. 

"The  only  thing  to  do  is  to  put  your  hands  in  your 


292  HEPSEY  BURKE 

trousers  pockets  and  pay,  cash  down,  just  as  you 
would  in  any  business  transaction.  And  by  cash,  I 
don't  mean  five  cents  in  the  plate  Sunday,  and  a  dollar 
for  a  show  on  Tuesday.  We've  none  of  us  any  busi 
ness  to  pretend  to  give  to  the  Lord  what  doesn't  cost 
a  red  cent,  as  the  Bible  says,  somewheres.  Now  don't 
get  nervous.  I'm  going  to  start  a  subscription  paper 
right  here  and  now.  It'll  save  lots  of  trouble,  and 
you  ought  to  jump  at  the  chance.  You'll  be  votin' 
me  a  plated  ice-water  pitcher  before  we  get  through, 
for  bein'  so  good  to  you — just  as  a  little  souvenir  of 
the  evenin'." 

A  disjointed  murmur  of  disapproval  rose  from  sun 
dry  parts  of  the  room  at  this  summary  way  of  meet 
ing  the  emergency.  Nelson,  who  had  tried  in  vain  to 
catch  the  eye  of  the  chair,  rose  at  a  venture  and  re 
marked  truculently: 

"This  is  a  most  unusual  proceeding,  Mrs.  Burke." 

The  chair  remained  immobile — but  Hepsey  turned 
upon  the  foe  like  a  flash  of  lightning. 

"Precisely,  Mr.  Nelson.  And  we  are  a  most  un 
usual  parish.  I  don't  claim  to  have  any  information 
gained  by  world-wide  travel,  but  livin'  my  life  as  I've 
found  it  here,  in  ths  town,  I've  got  to  say,  that  this 
is  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  of  a  church  turnin'  its 
rector  out  of  house  and  home,  and  refusin'  to  give 


HEPSEY  CALLS  A  MEETING        293 

him  salary  enough  to  buy  food  for  his  family.  May 
be  in  the  course  of  your  professional  travels  this 
thing  has  got  to  be  an  everyday  occurrence  to  you,— 
but  there's  some  of  us  here,  that  'aint  got  much  in 
terest  in  such  goings-on,  outside  of  Durford." 

"You  have  no  authority  to  raise  money  for  the 
church;  I  believe  the  Warden  will  concur  in  that  opin 
ion?"  and  he  bowed  towards  Bascom. 

"That  is  a  point  for  the  meeting  to  decide,"  he  re 
plied  judicially,  as  Hepsey  turned  towards  him. 

"Seems  to  me,"  continued  Mrs.  Burke,  facing  the 
audience,  "that  authority  wont  fill  the  rector's  purse 
so  well  as  cash.  It's  awful  curious  how  a  church  with 
six  Vestrymen  and  two  Wardens,  all  of  them  good 
business  men — men  that  can  squeeze  money  out  of  a 
monkey-wrench,  and  always  get  the  best  of  the  other 
fellow  in  a  horse-trade,  and  smoke  cigars  enough  to 
pay  the  rector's  whole  salary — get  limp  and  faint  and 
find  it  necessary  to  fall  back  on  talkin'  about  'author 
ity'  when  any  money  is  to  be  raised.  What  we  want 
in  the  parish  is  not  authority,  but  just  everyday  plain 
business  hustle,  the  sort  of  hustle  that  wears  trousers; 
and  as  we  don't  seem  to  get  that,  the  next  best  kind  is 
the  sort  that  wears  skirts.  I'd  always  rather  that  men 
shall  do  the  public  work  than  women;  but  if  men 
wont,  women  must.  What  we  need  right  here  in 


294  HEPSEY  BURKE 

Durford  is  a  few  full  grown  men  who  aren't  shirks 
or  quitters,  who  can  put  up  prayers  with  one  hand 
while  they  put  down  the  cash  with  the  other;  and  I 
don't  believe  the  Lord  ever  laid  it  up  against  any 
man  who  paid  first,  and  prayed  afterwards. 

"Now  brethren,  don't  all  speak  at  once.  I'm  goin' 
to  start  takin'  subscriptions.  Who's  goin'  to  head  the 
list?" 

A  little  withered  old  woman  laboriously  struggled 
to  her  feet,  and  in  a  high-pitched,  quavering  voice 
began : 

"I'd  like  to  give  suthin'  towards  the  end  in  view. 
Our  rector  were  powerful  good  to  my  Thomas  when 
he  had  the  brown  kitties  in  his  throat.  He  came  to 
see  him  mos'  every  day  and  read  to  him,  and  said 
prayers  with  him,  and  brought  him  papers  and  jelly, 
He  certainly  were  powerful  good  to  my  Thomas; 
and  once  when  Thomas  had  a  fever  our  rector  said 
that  he  thought  that  a  bath  would  do  my  Thomas  a 
heap  of  good,  and  he  guessed  he'd  give  him  one.  So 
I  got  some  water  in  a  bowl  and  some  soap,  and  our 
rector  he  just  took  off  his  coat,  and  his  vest,  and  his 
collar,  and  his  cuffs,  and  our  rector  he  washed  Thom 
as,  and  he  washed  him,  and  he  wa " 

"Well,"  Hepsey  interrupted,  to  stay  the  flow  of  elo 
quence,  "so  you'd  like  to  pay  for  his  laundry  now, 


HEPSEY  CALLS  A  MEETING        295 

would  you  Mrs.  Sumner?  Shall  I  put  you  down  for 
two  dollars?  Good !  Mrs.  Sumner  sets  the  ball  roll- 
in'  with  two  dollars.  Who'll  be  the  next?" 

As  there  was  no  response,  Mrs.  Burke  glanced 
critically  over  the  assembly  until  she  had  picked  her 
man,  and  then  announced: 

"Hiram  Mason,  I'm  sure  you  must  be  on  the  anx 
ious  bench?" 

Hiram  colored  painfully  as  he  replied: 

"I  don't  know  as  I  am  prepared  to  say  what  I  can 
give,  just  at  present,  Mrs.  Burke." 

"Well  now  let's  think  about  it  a  little.  Last  night's 
Daily  Bugle  had  your  name  in  a  list  of  those  that  gave 
ten  dollars  apiece  at  St.  Bridget's  fair.  I  suppose  the 
Irish  trade's  valuable  to  a  grocer  like  yourself;  but 
you  surely  can't  do  less  for  your  own  church?  I'll 
put  you  down  for  ten,  though  of  course  you  can 
double  it  if  you  like." 

"No,"  said  Hiram,  meditatively;  "I  guess  ten'll 
do," 

"Hiram  Mason  gives  ten  dollars.  The  Lord  lov- 
eth  a  cheerful  giver.  Thanks,  Hiram." 

Again  there  was  a  pause ;  and  as  no  one  volunteered, 
Hepsey  continued: 

"Sylvester  Perkins,  how  much  will  you  give?" 

"I  suppose  I'll  give  five  dollars,"  Sylvester  respond- 


296  HEPSEY  BURKE 

ed,  before  Mrs.  Burke  coud  have  a  chance  to  put  him 
down  for  a  larger  sum.  "But  I  don't  like  this  way 
of  doin'  things  a  little  bit.  It's  not  a  woman's 
place  to  hold  up  a  man  and  rob  him  in  public 
meetin'." 

"No,  a  woman  usually  goes  through  her  husband's 
pockets  when  he's  asleep,  I  suppose.  But  you  see  I'm 
not  your  wife.  Thanks,  Mr.  Perkins :  Mr.  Perkins, 
five  dollars,"  she  repeated  as  she  entered  his  sub 
scription  in  the  book.  "Next?"  she  called  briskly. 

"Mrs.  Burke,  I'll  give  twenty  dollars,  if  you  think 
that's  enough,"  called  a  voice  from  the  back  timidly. 

Everyone  turned  to  the  speaker  in  some  surprise. 
He  was  a  delicate,  slender  fellow,  evidently  in  bad 
health.  He  trembled  nervously,  and  Mrs.  Burke 
hesitated  for  an  instant,  between  fear  of  hurting  his 
feelings  and  letting  him  give  more  than  she  knew  he 
could  possibly  afford. 

"I  am  afraid  you  ought  not  to  give  so  much,  Amos. 
Let  me  put  you  down  for  five,"  she  said  kindly.  "We 
mustn't  rob  Peter  to  pay  Paul." 

"No,  ma'am,  put  me  down  for  twenty,"  he  per 
sisted;  and  then  burst  forth — "and  I  wish  it  was 
twenty  thousand.  I'd  do  anything  for  Mr.  Maxwell; 
I  owe  it  to  him,  I  tell  you." 

The  speaker  hesitated  a  moment  and  \yiped  his 


HEPSEY  CALLS  A  MEETING        297 

forehead  with  his  handkerchief,  and  then  continued 
slowly,  and  with  obvious  effort : 

"Maybe  you'll  think  I  am  a  fool  to  give  myself 
away  before  a  crowd  like  this,  and  I  a  member  of 
the  church;  but  the  simple  fact  is  that  Mr.  Maxwell 
saved  my  life  once,  when  I  was  pretty  near  all  in." 

Again  the  speaker  stopped,  breathing  heavily,  and 
there  was  absolute  silence  in  the  room.  Regaining  his 
courage,  he  continued:  "Yes,  he  saved  me,  body  and 
soul,  and  I  guess  I'll  tell  the  whole  story.  Most  of 
you  would  have  kicked  me  into  the  street  or  lodged 
me  in  jail;  but  he  wasn't  that  kind,  thank  God! 

"I  was  clerking  in  the  Post  Office  a  while  back,  and 
I  left  town  one  night,  suddenly.  I'd  been  drinking 
some,  and  when  I  left,  my  accounts  were  two  hundred 
dollars  short.  The  thing  was  kept  quiet.  Only  two 
men  knew  about  it.  Mr.  Maxwell  was  one.  He  got 
the  other  man  to  keep  his  mouth  shut,  handed  over 
the  amount,  and  chased  after  me  and  made  me  come 
back  with  him  and  stay  at  his  house  for  a  while.  Then 
he  gave  me  some  work  and  helped  me  to  make  a  new 
start.  He  didn't  say  a  word  of  reproach,  nor  he 
didn't  talk  religion  to  me.  He  just  acted  as  if  he 
cared  a  whole  lot  for  me,  and  wanted  to  put  me  on 
my  feet  again. 

"I  didn't  know  for  a  long  time  where  Mr.  Max- 


298  HEPSEY  BURKE 

well  got  the  money  for  me  but  after  a  while  I  dis 
covered  that  he'd  given  a  chattel  mortgage  on  his 
books  and  personal  belongings.  Do  you  suppose 
that  there's  anybody  else  in  the  world  would  have 
done  that  for  me?  It  wasn't  only  his  giving  me  the 
money;  it  was  finding  that  somebody  trusted  me  and 
cared  for  me,  who  had  no  business  to  trust  me,  and 
couldn't  afford  to  trust  me.  That's  what  saved  me 
and  kept  me  straight. 

"I  haven't  touched  a  drop  since,  and  I  never  will. 
I've  been  paying  my  debt  to  him  as  quick  as  I  can, 
and  as  far  as  money  can  pay  it;  but  all  the  gold  in 
the  world  wouldn't  even  me  up  with  him.  I  don't 
know  just  why  I've  told  all  about  it,  but  I  guess  it's 
because  I  felt  you  ought  to  know  the  kind  of  a  man 
the  rector  is;  and  I'm  glad  he  isn't  here,  or  he'd  never 
have  let  me  give  him  away  like  this." 

Amos  sat  down,  while  the  astonished  gathering 
stared  at  him,  the  defaulter,  who  in  a  moment  of 
gratitude  had  betrayed  himself.  The  woman  next  to 
him  edged  a  little  farther  away  from  him  and  watched 
him  furtively,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  care. 

Under  the  stimulus  of  this  confession,  the  feelings 
of  the  people  quickly  responded  to  the  occasion,  and 
a  line  soon  formed,  without  further  need  of  wit  or 
eloquence  on  Hepsey's  part,  to  have  their  subscrip- 


HEPSEY  CALLS  A  MEETING        299 

tions  recorded.  In  half  an  hour,  Mrs.  Burke,  whose 
face  was  glowing  with  pleasure — albeit  she  glanced 
anxiously  from  time  to  time  towards  old  Mr.  Bas- 
com,  in  an  endeavor  to  size  up  his  mood  and  force 
his  intentions — had  written  down  the  name  of  the  last 
volunteer.  She  turned  towards  her  audience: 

"As  I  don't  want  to  keep  you  waitin'  here  all  night 
while  I  add  up  the  subscriptions,  I'll  ask  the  chairman 
to  do  it  for  me  and  let  you  know  the  result.  He's 
quicker  at  figurin'  than  I  am,  I  guess,"  with  which 
compliment,  she  smilingly  handed  the  book  to  the 
Senior  Warden.  While  the  old  man  bent  to  his  task, 
the  room  buzzed  with  low,  excited  conversation. 
Enough  was  already  known  of  Bascom's  hostility  to 
the  rector,  to  make  the  meeting  decidedly  curious  as 
to  his  attitude  towards  Hepsey's  remarks  anent  the 
mortgage;  and  they  knew  him  well  enough  to  be 
aware  that  he  would  not  allow  that  item  in  her  speech 
to  go  unanswered,  in  some  way  or  other. 

All  eyes  rested  upon  the  gaunt  figure  of  the  chair 
man,  as  he  rose  to  his  feet  to  announce  the  total  of 
the  subscription  list.  He  cleared  his  throat,  and 
looked  down  at  Hepsey  Burke;  and  Jonathan,  as  he 
squinted  anxiously  at  Hepsey  by  his  side,  noticed  that 
she  sat  with  her  eyes  tight-closed,  oblivious  of  the 
chairman's  glance.  Jonathan  looked  hastily  up  at  Bas- 


300  HEPSEY  BURKE 

com,  and  noticed  him  shift  his  position  a  little  ner 
vously,  as  he  cleared  his  throat  again. 

"The  amount  subscribed  on  this  list,  is  two  hun 
dred  and  thirty-seven  dollars  and  thirty-five  cents,"  he 
said.  The  loud  applause  was  instantaneous,  and  Jon 
athan  turned  quickly  to  Hepsey,  as  he  stamped  his 
feet  and  clapped  his  hands. 

"Thirty-seven  thirty-five  more  than  we  owe  him; 
Hepsey,  you've  done  fine,"  he  chortled. 

But  Hepsey's  look  was  now  riveted  on  the  chair 
man,  and  except  for  a  half-absent  smile  of  pleasure, 
the  keenest  anxiety  showed  in  her  expression. 

Bascom  cleared  his  voice  again,  and  then  pro 
ceeded  : 

"Mrs.  Burke  informed  you  that  the  rector's  salary 
was  in  arrears  to  the  extent  of  about  two  hundred 
dollars.  It  is  now  for  this  meeting  to  pass  a  formal 
resolution  for  the  application  of  the  amount  sub 
scribed  to  the  object  in  view." 

Hepsey's  lips  narrowed;  not  a  cent  was  down  on 
the  list  to  the  name  of  the  Senior  Warden;  the  debt 
was  being  paid  without  assistance  from  him. 

"I  presume  I  may  put  it  to  the  meeting  that  the 
amount,  when  collected,  be  paid  over  to  the  rector  by 
a  committee  formed  for  that  purpose?"  proceeded 
the  chairman. 


HEPSEY  CALLS  A  MEETING        301 

This  resolution  being  duly  seconded  and  carried, 
Bascom  continued : 

"Before  we  adjourn  I  request  the  opportunity  to 
make  a  few  remarks,  in  reply  to  Mrs.  Burke's  ob 
servations  concerning  the  ejection  of  the  rector  from 
the  house  which  he  occupied.  She  was  good  enough 
to  spare  my  feelings  by  pointing  out  that  from  a  busi 
ness  or  legal  point  of  view  it  was  not  I  who  was  re 
sponsible  for  that  act,  but  the  parishioners,  who,  hav 
ing  purchased  the  rectory  subject  to  a  mortgage,  had 
failed  to  meet  the  interest  upon  it.  That  is  what  Mrs. 
Burke  said:  \vhat  she  did  not  say,  and  what  none  of 
you  have  said  in  public,  though  I  reckon  you've  said 
it  among  yourselves,  I  will  take  upon  myself  to  say 
for  her  and  you." 

He  paused — and  every  eye  was  fixed  upon  him  and 
every  mouth  agape  in  paralysed  astonishment:  and 
the  said  features  of  Hepsey  Burke  were  no  exception 
to  the  rule. 

"When,"  continued  Bascom  evenly  and  urbanely, 
"the  word  went  round  that  the  interest  on  the  mort 
gage  had  got  behind,  and  the  money  must  be  collected 
for  it,  those  concerned  no  doubt  remarked  easily:  'Oh, 
I  guess  that'll  be  all  right.  Bascom  wont  worry  about 
that;  he  don't  need  it;  anyway  he  can  pay  it  to  him 
self,  for  the  parish,  if  he  does." 


302  HEPSEY  BURKE 

There  was  an  uncomfortable  stirring  of  the  audi 
ence  at  this  shrewd  thrust;  but  Hepsey  could  not  con 
tain  herself,  and  laughed  right  out,  clapping  loudly. 

"And  yet  I  don't  mind  saying  that  if  I  had  thought 
of  suggesting  to  anyone  of  you  such  a  method  of  col 
lecting  interest  due  to  you,  you  might  have  kicked 
some,"  he  commented  dryly. 

"At  the  next  step,  when  I  ultimately  concluded  to 
act  upon  my  right  to  eject  Mr.  Maxwell  from  the 
rectory,  I've  no  doubt  that  on  all  sides  it  was :  'Well, 
did  you  ever  know  the  likes  of  that?  Turning  the 
rector  out  of  house  and  home !  Well  he's  a  skinflint 
for  fair!'" 

He  paused  and  watched  the  effect.  This  time  his 
hearers  sat  absolutely  motionless. 

"And  I  agree  with  you,"  he  added  presently,  in  a 
quiet  voice:  "I  was  a  skinflint  for  fair!" 

Almost  Hepsey  forgot  herself  so  far  as  to  clap 
thunderously:  she  caught  her  hands  together  just  in 
time — recollecting  that  her  demonstration  would  be 
taken  too  literally. 

"But  I  would  not  have  you  misunderstand  me: 
though  it  was  for  me  to  call  myself  a  skinflint  for  that 
act,  it  was  not  for  you  to  do  so.  You  did  so  on 
wrong  grounds.  Those  who  in  making  money  have 
been  less  successful  than  others,  find  it  convenient  to 


HEPSEY  CALLS  A  MEETING        303 

leave  all  such  obligations  upon  the  shoulders  of  the 
richer  man,  and  to  say  'it's  up  to  him;  he  can  afford 
it.'  Is  it  any  wonder  that  it  makes  the  rich  man  sour 
on  subscriptions  and  philanthropies?  He  has  as 
much,  or  more,  of  inducement  to  apply  his  earnings 
and  savings  to  his  own  ends  and  pleasures;  why  then, 
is  it  not  up  to  all,  in  their  own  proportions  to  meet 
social  needs?  A  good  many  years  of  such  meanness 
among  his  neighbors  makes  even  a  rich  man  sour  and 
mean,  I  guess.  And  that's  what  it  made  me — and 
though  that  isn't  a  justification  of  my  act,  it  gave  me 
as  much  right  to  call  you  skinflints  as  for  you  to  call 
me :  all  except  one  of  you,  Hepsey  Burke." 

The  meeting  quivered  with  tense  excitement.  What 
did  it  all  mean?  If  a  chicken  had  sneezed  the  whole 
gathering  would  have  been  dissolved  in  hysterics,  it 
was  so  keyed  up  with  a  sense  of  the  impending  dis 
closure  of  a  deep  mystery.  As  for  Hepsey,  she  sat 
motionless,  though  Jonathan  believed  that  he  caught 
sight  of  a  tear  glistening  in  its  descent. 

"Hepsey  Burke  had  a  right  to  call  me  a  skinflint, 
because  she  knew  what  none  of  you  knew;  but  because 
it  was  private  knowledge  she  wouldn't  make  use  of  it 
against  me — not  unless  she  couldn't  have  done  what 
was  right  any  other  way.  And  now  I'm  going  to  tell 
you  what  she  knew: 


3o4  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"The  rectory  was  my  wife's  property,  and  she  in 
tended  it  as  a  gift  to  the  parish,  for  the  rectory  of 
the  church.  I  was  preparing  the  deeds  of  transfer, 
when  she  died — suddenly,  as  some  of  you  remember," 
his  voice  made  heroic  efforts  to  keep  clear  and  steady, 
"owing  to  her  death  before  the  transfer,  that  house 
passed  to  our  daughter;  and  what  I  intended  to  do 
was  to  buy  it  of  her  and  present  it  to  he  parish.  I 
delayed,  at  first  for  good  reasons.  And  I  suppose  as 
I  got  more  and  more  lonesome  and  mixed  less  and 
less  with  people,  I  got  sourer — and  then  I  delayed 
from  meanness.  It  would  have  been  easy  enough  for 
me  to  buy  it  of  my  daughter,  and  she'd  have  been 
willing  enough ;  but  as  I  saw  more  and  more  put  upon 
me,  and  less  and  less  human  recognition — I  was  'a 
rich  man,'  and  needed  no  personal  sympathy  or  en 
couragement,  it  seemed — I  held  back.  And  I  got  so 
mean,  I  couldn't  make  friends  with  the  rector, 
even." 

He  paused,  and  from  the  half  smile  on  his  face, 
and  the  hint  of  brightness  that  passed  over  his  expres 
sion,  the  audience  caught  relief. 

"I  guess  a  good  shaking  up  is  good  for  a  man's 
liver:  it  cures  a  sour  stomach — and  as  there  are  those 
that  say  the  way  to  a  man's  heart  is  through  his  stom 
ach,  perhaps  it  cures  a  sour  heart.  I  got  my  shaking 


HEPSEY  CALLS  A  MEETING        305 

up  all  right,  as  you  know;  and  perhaps  that's  been 
working  a  cure  on  me.  Or  perhaps  it  was  the  quiet 
ministrations  of  that  little  Mrs.  Betty  of  yours" — 
applause — "or  the  infusion  of  some  of  the  rector's 
blood  in  my  veins  (he  let  himself  be  bled  to  keep  me 
alive,  after  I'd  lost  what  little  blood  I  had,  as  you 
probably  have  never  heard)" — shouts  of  applause — 
"or  possibly  what  cured  me  was  a  little  knitting-visit 
that  Hepsey  Burke  paid  me  the  other  day,  and  during 
which  she  dropped  some  home-truths:  I  can't  say. 

"Before  I  decided  what  I  would  do  about  the  rec 
tory,  I  wanted  to  see  what  you  would  do,  under  Mrs. 
Burke's  guidance,  this  evening.  You've  shouldered 
your  share,  as  far  as  the  rector's  salary  is  concerned. 
Well — I'll  add  what  I  consider  my  fair  share  to  that, 
fifty  dollars.  The  arrears  due  on  the  mortgage  in 
terest  is  one  hundred  and  twenty  dollars.  I  shall  hold 
you  to  your  side  of  that  bargain,  to  date.  If  you  pay 
the  rector  the  two  hundred  dollars  due  him  on  his 
salary,  you  will  need  to  subscribe  about  another  forty 
to  make  up  the  interest :  that  done,  and  paid  to  me,  I 
will  do  my  part,  and  present  the  rectory  to  the  parish, 
in  memory  of  my  dear  wife,  as  she  desired." 

He  sat  down. 

Hepsey  rose  and  called  out  in  a  clear  voice : 

"He's  right;  Mr.  Bascom's  dead  right;  it's  up  to 


3o6  HEPSEY  BURKE 

us  to  be  business  first,  and  clear  ourselves  of  the  debt 
on  a  business  bargain;  then  we  can  accept  the  gift 
without  too  much  worryin'."  And  she  sent  a  very 
friendly  smile  over  to  Bascom. 

Again  there  was  some  cheering,  in  the  midst  of 
which  Jonathan  Jackson  jumped  to  his  feet  beside 
Hepsey;  and  facing  the  room,  with  his  arm  through 
hers,  he  shouted: 

"Hepsey  Burke  and  me  will  make  up  the  differ 
ence!" 

Another  cheer  went  up,  and  Hepsey's  face  flamed 
scarlet  amid  the  craning  of  necks  and  chaffing  laugh 
ter — half  puzzled,  half  understanding. 

Sylvester  Bascom  rose  to  his  feet,  and  there  was 
silence.  With  assumed  seriousness  he  addressed  Hep 
sey,  still  standing: 

"Mrs.  Burke,  so  that  it  may  be  quite  in  order,  do 
you  endorse  Mr.  Jackson's  authority  to  speak  for  you 
in  this  matter?" 

Every  eye  was  turned  upon  them;  but  Hepsey 
could  find  not  a  word,  so  flabergasted  was  she  by  this 
sudden  move  of  Jonathan's.  Jonathan  himself  col 
ored  furiously,  but  stuck  to  his  guns,  and  Hepsey's 
arm: 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth,"  he  replied  in  a  jaunty 
voice,  "Hepsey  Burke  and  me's  goin'  to  be  married 


HEPSEY  CALLS  A  MEETING        307 

right  now,  so  I  guess  we'll  combine  our  resources, 
like." 

This  announcement  gave  the  coup  de  grace  to  any 
further  attempt  at  orderliness,  and  the  room  became  a 
seething  chorus  of  congratulatory  greetings  aimed  at 
Hepsey  and  Jonathan,  in  the  midst  of  which  Sylvester 
Bascom  slipped  out  unnoticed. 


3II3B 


BttilK 


CHftBTERXXIV 


Rim 


ice 

WHEN  at  last  the  room  emptied,  and  she  was 
free  to  do  so,  Hepsey,  accompanied  by  the 
possessive  Jonathan,  found  her  way  over  to 
the  Maxwells.     Before  she  started  to  tell  them  the 
results  of  the  meeting  she  cast  a  glance  of  whimsical 
affection  at  her  palpitating  fiance. 

"I'd  best  let  him  get  it  off  his  chest — then  we'll 
get  down  to  business,"  she  laughed. 

So  Jonathan,  amid  much  handshaking  and  congrat 
ulation  told    his  victorious    story — until,    v/hen    he 

308 


OMNIUM  GATHERUM  309 

seemed  to  Hepsey  to  become  too  triumphant,  she 
broke  in  with:  "Now  that's  enougn  for  you,  Mr. 
Proudmouth.  Let  me  just  say  a  word  or  two,  will 
you  ?  The  meetin'  wasn't  called  for  you  and  me,  and 
I  want  to  tell  about  more  important  happenin's." 

When  they  had  heard  of  all  that  had  been  accom 
plished,  Mrs.  Betty  got  up  and  put  her  arms  round 
Hepsey's  neck  and  gave  her  such  a  hug,  and  a  kiss  on 
each  cheek,  that  brought  the  tears  to  Mrs.  Burke's 
eyes.  And  Donald,  moist-eyed  in  spite  of  himself, 
took  her  hand  in  both  of  his,  and  expressed  his  feel 
ings  and  relieved  the  tension  at  the  same  time  by 
saying : 

"Hepsey  Burke,  for  all  your  molasses  and  the  little 
bit  of  vinegar  you  say  you  keep  by  you,  'there  are  no 
flies  on  yon'  as  Nickey  would  put  it." 

At  which  sally  Jonathan  slapped  his  knee,  and  ejac 
ulated: 

"No!  there  'aint,  by  gum!  There  Vint  no  flies  on 
Hepsey,  if  I  do  say  it  myself." 

At  which  proprietory  speech  Hepsey  wagged  her 
head  warningly,  saying,  as  they  left — "There's  no 
downin'  him,  these  days ;  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what's 
come  over  the  man." 

On  their  way  home  Jonathan  was  urgent  for  fixing 
the  day. 


3io  HEPSEY  BURKE 

"You  said  you'd  marry  me  right  there  and  then,  if 
the  meetin'  came  your  way,  now  you  know  you  did, 
Hepsey,"  he  argued.  "So  if  we  say  to-morrow— 

But  though  Hepsey  would  never  go  back  on  a 
promise,  she  protested  against  too  summary  an  in 
terpretation  of  it,  and  insisted  on  due  time  to  prepare 
herself  for  her  wedding.  So  a  day  was  set  some  two 
months  hence. 

Meanwhile,  Sylvester  Bascom's  truer  and  pristine 
nature  blossomed  forth  in  the  sunnier  atmosphere 
around  him,  and  after  he  had  delivered  himself  of 
his  feelings  to  the  Maxwells,  in  a  visit  which  he  paid 
them  next  day  at  their  nomadic  quarters,  he  begged 
leave  to  put  the  rectory  in  full  repair  before  he  hand 
ed  it  over  to  the  parish,  and  the  Maxwells  returned 
to  it. 

And  he  was  better  than  his  word;  for,  with  Hep 
sey  and  Virginia  accompanying  her,  he  insisted  on 
Mrs.  Betty  taking  a  trip  to  the  city  a  few  days  later 
for  the  purpose  of  selecting  furnishings  of  various 
kinds  dear  to  the  hearts  of  housekeepers — Hepsey 
absorbing  a  share  of  the  time  in  selecting  her  "trous 


seau." 


Meanwhile,  in  due  course  the  rectory  was  made  a 
new  place,  inside  and  out,  and  a  few  weeks  after  their 
return  the  transformed  house,  repainted  inside  and 


OMNIUM  GATHERUM  311 

out,  papered  and  curtained  and  charmingly  fitted  with 
new  furniture,  was  again  occupied  by  the  Maxwells. 

That  the  interest  of  the  parish  should  for  a  while 
be  concentrated  on  the  doings  at  the  rectory,  and  di 
verted  from  her  own  important  preparations,  was  a 
blessing  to  Hepsey — for  she  continually  declared  to 
Mrs.  Betty  that,  little  as  she  knew  Jonathan  in  his 
new  manner,  she  knew  herself  less  ! 

It  was  decided  that  the  wedding  should  be  in  the 
church,  and  a  reception  held  after  the  ceremony,  for 
the  bride  and  bridegroom,  at  the  rectory — and  that,  in 
this  way,  the  whole  parish  would  celebrate,  in  honor 
of  the  auspicious  occasion,  and  of  other  happy  results 
of  Hepsey's  parish  meeting. 

The  day  before  the  wedding,  while  Mrs.  Betty  and 
Virginia  were  busily  occupied  at  Thunder  Cliff  and 
the  rectory,  dividing  their  attentions  between  the  last 
touches  to  Hepsey's  wardrobe,  and  preparing  confec 
tions  for  the  wedding  guests,  Donald  Maxwell  was 
closeted  with  Mr.  Bascom  at  Willow  Bluff  for  a  con 
siderable  time.  It  was  known  that  the  Senior  Warden 
was  to  support  his  colleague,  Jonathan,  at  the  mor 
row's  event,  and  it  was  presumed  that  the  rector  was 
prompting  him  in  his  duties  for  the  occasion. 

The  ceremony  next  day  at  the  church  was  a  center 
of  fervent  and  cordial  good-will  and  thanksgiving,  as 


312  HEPSEY  BURKE 

Jonathan,  supported  by  Sylvester  Bascom,  took  to 
wife  Hepsey,  given  away  by  Mrs.  Betty,  with  Vir 
ginia  as  a  kind  of  maid  of  honor,  hovering  near.  It 
was  well  for  Donald  Maxwell  that  his  memory  served 
him  faithfully  in  conducting  the  service,  for  his  eyes 
were  in  misty  conflict  with  his  bright  smile.  Nickey 
from  the  front  pew,  watched  his  mother  with  awe 
struck  eyes,  and  with  son-like  amazement  at  her  self- 
possessed  carriage  under  the  blaze  of  so  much  public 
attention. 

There  followed  a  procession  from  the  church,  and 
soon  the  rectory,  house  and  garden,  were  alive  with 
chattering  groups,  of  all  sorts  and  conditions,  for  the 
invitations  had  been  general  and  public,  irrespective 
of  class  or  sect,  at  Hepsey's  special  request.  There 
was  a  constant  line  of  friends,  known  and  unknown, 
filing  past  bride  and  bridegroom,  with  congratulatory 
greetings  and  cordial  good  wishes.  There  were 
speeches  from  delegations  of  various  local  bodies,  and 
from  local  notables  of  various  degrees;  and  there 
were  wedding  presents,  out-vying  each  other,  as  it 
seemed,  in  kindly  personal  significance  rather  than  in 
costliness.  Among  them  all,  and  arranged  by  Mrs. 
Betty  at  the  very  center,  the  Vestry's  gift  to  the  bride 
stood  easily  first:  a  plated  ice-water  pitcher! 

It  was  left  to  Maxwell  to  make  the  farewell  speech, 


OMNIUM  GATHERUM  313 

a.  the  company  crowded  round  the  automobile,  lent 
by  the  Bascoms,  in  which  Hepsey  and  Jonathan  sat  in 
smiling  happiness,  ready  to  drive  to  the  station,  on 
their  way  for  a  week's  honeymoon. 

"Friends!"  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  reached  to  the 
skirts  of  the  assembled  throng,  "before  we  give  a  val 
edictory  'three  times  three'  to  the  happy  couple,  I 
have  to  tell  you  of  a  plan  that  has  been  made  to  com 
memorate  this  day  permanently — and  so  that  Mrs. 
Jackson  may  not  forget  the  place  she  holds  in  our 
hearts,  and  always  will  hold,  as  Hepsey  Burke. 

"It  is  Mr.  Bascom's  idea,  and  I  know  it  will  give 
lasting  pleasure  to  Mrs.  Burke — I  mean  Mrs.  Jack 
son,"  he  corrected,  laughing  ,  "as  well  as  to  all  Dur- 
ford,  young  and  old.  The  beautiful  piece  of  wood 
land,  half  a  mile  beyond  Willow  Bluff,  is  to-day  pre 
sented  by  Mr.  Bascom  to  the  town,  and  we  shall  short 
ly  repair  there  to  watch  the  boys  erect  the  tent  now 
on  the  church  plot,  and  which  Mr.  Jackson  has  kindly 
presented  to  the  Boy  Scouts." 

"Gee,"  yelled  Nickey,  in  astounded  delight,  and 
leading  a  cheer  that  interrupted  the  speaker  for  some 
moments. 

Maxwell  continued:  "Mr.  Bascom's  generous  gift 
to  the  town  will  be  kept  in  order  by  the  Boy  Scouts, 
as  their  permanent  camping-ground — and  I  daresay 


3i4  HEPSEY  BURKE 

Nickey  Burke  will  not  be  averse  to  occupying  the  tent 
with  his  corps,  during  the  week  or  so  that  Mrs.  Jack 
son  is  to  be  away.  The  place  is  to  be  called  in  her 
honor — 'Hepsey  Burke  Park.'  And  now — Three 
cheers  for  the  bride  and  groom." 

The  cheers  were  given  with  whole-hearted  fervor, 
as  the  man  at  the  wheel  tooted,  and  the  auto  started 
on  its  way  with  the  smiling  pair,  followed  by  the  peo 
ple's  delighted  shouts  of  approbation  at  the  happy 
plan  for  perpetuating  among  them  the  cheerful  name 
of  Hepsey  Burke. 


Being  just  a  ward  or  two 
about  ourselves 

We  are  getting  rather  proud  of  the  imprint 
which  appears  on  the  title  pages  and  backs 
of  all  the  books  we  publish.  It  is  compara 
tively  a  new  imprint,  but  the  few  years  of  our 
existence  have  been  years  of  accomplishment. 

Above  all  else  we  have  aimed  at  publishing 
only  a  few  books,  but  those  few  to  be  books 
that  could  be  taken  into  the  home, — our  home 
or  your  home.  In  a  word,  the  kind  of  books 
you  want  your  daughters  and  your  sons  to 
read.  Red-blooded  and  true  as  life  is  true, 
but  clean. 

If  you  have  enjoyed  this  story  and  would 
like  to  become  acquainted  with  other  books 
which  we  publish  fill  out  the  following  blank 
and  in  addition  to  our  catalogue  you  will  re 
ceive  free  of  any  charge  a  copy  of: 

A  Little  Journey  to 
The  Home  of  Everywoman 

By  ELBERT  HUBBARD 

A  pamphlet  reprinted  from  the  Philistine 

Name _ 

Address  ... 


A  Message  of  Hope,  to  the  World,  From  the  Loneliness 
of  the  Adirondack  Wilds 

"Once  To  Every  Man" 

By  LARRY  EVANS 

Exiled  from  an  active  New  York  business  career  to  the 
loneliness  of  the  Adirondack  wilds,  among  the  mountains 
and  the  pines,  Larry  Evans  has  really  learned  to  know 
the  stars  and  glory  of  the  universe  and  the  whole  sublime 
scheme  of  things — learned,  indeed,  to  know  God. 

Left  absolutely  alone,  day  after  day,  night  after  night, 
month  after  month,  out  in  the  open,  in  an  invalid's 
chair,  he  wrote  "Once  to  Every  Man,"  a  story  of  the 
everlasting  hills,  the  smiling  green  fields  and  the  running 
brooks,  that  throbs  with  the  never  ending  wonder  of 
woman. 

Four  Illustrations  and  Jacket   in    Colors   by 
Anton  Otto  Fisher.     Price  $1.35  net. 

"MY    FRIEND,    O.    HENRY,"  by 

Seth  Moyle,  with  every  copy  of  "ONCE 
jo  EVERY  MAN;"  An  intimate, 
heart  to  heart  biography  of  the  great  genius'  life  by 
the  man  who  helped  to  discover  him.  See  last  page 
of  "Once  to  Every  Man"  for  this  offer. 

THE  H.  K.  FLY  COMPANY,  263  Fifth  Ave.,NewYork 


Breathe  Deep  of  the  Pungent  Purple  gage  ! 

The  Long  Chance 

By  PETER  B.  KYNE 

Have  you  ever  learned  the  desert's  little 
ways,  chummed  up  with  the  mesa,  or  fought 
it  out  with  death  at  the  tag  end  of  all  creation? 
Here  is  a  story  fresh  from  the  heart  of  the 
desert  with  all  of  the  tang  of  the  West  to  it 
that  Remington  put  into  his  paintings. 

Surely  you  have  read  Mr.  Kyne's  Western 
stories  in  the  Saturday  Evening  Post,  Red 
Book,  or  Metropolitan  Magazine  and  been 
thrilled  to  your  finger  tips,  while  the  tears 
came  to  your  eyes  as  you  read  of  God's  real 
Christians,  men  who  sometimes  curse  and  pro 
fane,  and  flirt  with  the  flesh  pots  of  life;  but 
whose  hearts  are  pure  gold. 

"Surely  there  is  only  one  quality  in  human 
kind  that  really  matters — softening,  suffering 
and  despair  and  turning  away  wrath,  and  as 
Donna  knelt  by  the  grave  of  the  man  who  had 
possessed  that  quality  to  such  an  extent  that 
he  had  considered  his  life  cheap  as  a  means 
of  expressing  it,  she  prayed  that  her  infant  son 
might  be  endowed  with  the  virtues  and  brains 
of  his  father  and  the  wanderer  who  slept  be 
neath  the  stone: 

'•'Dear  God,  help  me  raise  a  Matt  and  teach  him  to  be  kind." 

Four  illustrations  and  jacket  in  color  by 
Frank  Tenney  Johnson.  Price  $1.35  net. 

H.  K.  FLY  COMPANY 

263  Fifth  Avenue  New  York 


EVERY  MAN 

should  read 

WALTER  BROWN'S 

MODERN  MORALITY  PLAY 

"EVERYWOMAN" 

HER    PILGRIMAGE   IN   QUEST  OF   LOVE 

No  American  play  of  recent  years 
has  been  so  universally  endorsed  by 
Universities,  dramatic  clubs  and  critics 
as  this  play  "Everywoman." 

Like  "Experience"  it  is  allegorical 
and  it  was  the  first  successful  attempt 
to  revive  the  ancient  morality  play  of 
which  "Everyman"  is  the  best  known 
example. 

If  you  have  enjoyed  reading 
"Experience,"  you  will  not  be  disap 
pointed  in  "Everywoman." 

Write  for  a  free  copy  of  "A  Little 
Journey  to  the  Home  of  'Everywoman'" 
by  Elbert  Hubbard. 

Bound  Uniformly  with  "Experience" 
12mo.  cloth,  illustrated,  net  $1.00 

THE  H.  K.  FLY    COMPANY 

263  FIFTH  AVENUE  NEW  YORK 


EXPERIENCE 

A  MORALITY  PLA  Y  OF  TOD  A  Y 

By 

GEORGE  V.  HOBART 

•••* 

"Experience"  is  a  morality  play 
similar  to  "Everywoman"  as  far  as 
characterization,  environment  and 
allegory  are  concerned.  Both  of  these 
plays  are  fashioned  after  the  ancient 
morality  play  of  which  "Everyman"  is 
the  best  known  example. 

You  literally  sit  in  the  grand  stand 
of  life  and  watch  yourself  go  by. 

Every  reader  of  "Everywoman"  will 
enjoy  "Experience."  Taken  together 
they  represent  the  best  allegorical  drama 
America  has  produced  and  like  its 
sister  play  "Everywoman,"  will  be  found 
a  stimulating  study  for  schools  and 
colleges. 

Bound  Uniformly  with  "Everywoman" 
12mo.  cloth,  illustrated,  net  $1.00 

THE  H.   K.  FLY  COMPANY 

263  FIFTH  AVENUE  NEW  YORK 


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